Lady Lioness
by CalliopeMused
Summary: Alanna never went to Corus to learn to become a page. When Lady Alanna makes her debut at sixteen, the entire world has changed, and she will be the one to put things right.  Alternate Canon
1. Prologue

She breathed in slowly, her mind only on the air and her sword.

Well, she would have concentrated on her sword if she had one. A walking staff was too long, but it was the best she could do. Fighters improvised.

She banished the stray thoughts from her mind as she let the breath out. The sword rose as her heart beat the count.

_Five. _

Her grip was slightly off, but only to balance a weapon that wasn't a sword.

_Six. _

Her footwork was as close as she could make it from watching the mages learn to fight with a staff and sword. The boys grumbled at the lessons, but she had watched until she had been forced to leave.

_Seven. _

_Don't tense. Just move at the time, not before. _Her staff moved slowly, with more grace than she ever could manage during her many dancing lessons.

_Eight. _

Her sword whipped into a fast slash, and she could see her opponent. Her brother, who complained about his days in every rare letter, who said she had no reason to gripe. He was her height to an inch, and she knew just how to direct her flurry of blows. If Thom had just let her _try- _what would have been the harm? She would have been the better knight, and even being sent home in disgrace after a year would have been better than six years learning to be a lady.

She knew swordwork only from scant observation and books. Some girls were caught with romances that made a blush rise in Alanna's cheeks. The women of the convent found instructional books about fighting in her things, no matter how many times they sent the books away. They never found the cache of books kept under her mattress, adventure novels written for young men. The fighting described was vivid, and the quests took her breath away and ran through her dreams. The few books she founded filled her imagination and fueled her scorn for Thom's lackluster swordwork. _Like you could do better, _he had grumbled.

Spin with her blade high, duck to a low slash, parry so fast that her sword was a flash of metal lighting, and then, when realization spread across his face, when he knew that she couldn't stand to hear him whine about a squire's work, or his boasting about his knightmaster, her sword jerked, in the movement she had studied during a tournament her class had attended. The other ladies-to-be had admired the knights. She had admired their tricks with blades, and remembered again the facts of her life.

He would be a knight.

She would be a lady.

Alanna slashed viciously, because her opponent wasn't her twin. Not really, even if he whined about his bruises in his rare letters. She wanted to fight good posture and walking slowly and corsets and suitors and shallow flattery.

Spin, turn, _don't tense, _natural posture, slow a touch, step, _watch your hands, _sweep the blade-

_Crack. _

Alanna jumped as her staff came into contact with a walking stick.

"Sister Emmarie," she said bowing her head. "I apologize." Ladies took all deserved responsibility- in theory. In practice, ladies avoided blame at all costs, but Alanna needed some small sense of chivalry.

Alanna met Emmarie's eyes and felt the bottom begin to drop from her world. A lecture wasn't coming, and Sister Emmarie always found the time for a lecture.

"As am I, Alanna. I bring bad news. Your mother has fallen ill."

* * *

><p><strong>Lady Lioness<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Alanna never went to Corus to learn to become a page. When Lady Alanna makes her debut at sixteen, the entire world has changed, and she will be the one to put things right. <strong>_

_I don't own Tamora Pierce's books or characters. I just make new stories with the very fun worlds that she has created._


	2. Chapter One

_The timelines are as close to the original canon as I could make them. If anyone else is so detail-oriented that they care to know, Tamora Pierce's provided timelines have a gap of about eleven years between the different books. I'm focusing more on keeping the relative ages the same, and all events from the _Song of the Lioness _trilogy will happen in approximately the right place."Swelling disease" is a suitably archaic-sounding term for cancer. _

_Please note: there are a lot of people that have already been lost. Alanna went to the convent, and the world DID change. Several of these losses are irreversible, and no person mentioned as dead in this chapter will unexpectedly come back to life for some later scene. Alanna is going to mend things as best she can, in time, but first she needs to realize just how much the country has lost._

**Chapter One**

Cold rain slapped against her face as Alanna stood on the path out in front of the manor, and mud seeped between the seams of the ill-fitting boots the cobbler had patched together. It was the perfect weather for a funeral.

"You kept her alive a full extra week, child," Maude said, her words as gentle as the handkerchief that wiped tears and rain alike from Alanna's cheeks. "She felt no pain. I don't think anyone knew just how strong you were in healing."

"It's no good, Maude. I couldn't save her," Alanna said, voice still choked. "What's the good of magic if I can't do anything useful?"

"Hush, lamb," Maude soothed, tucking the wet handkerchief away to readjust Alanna's shawl. "Duke Baird and his best couldn't do a thing about swelling disease at that stage. Your lady mother had her daughter for those last two weeks, and she had no pain."

"I promised her that I would finish my education at the convent," Alanna said, chin lifting a fraction.

Maude nodded approvingly. "She told me, Alanna, when you finally were sleeping. You made her eyes light like nobody else managed. She's proud of you, Alanna. Being a lady is harder than some realize."

Alanna took a deep, shuddering breath. "Thank you, Maude." Her tears had trickled to a stop, finally, leaving her fit for proper company. "Coram said that he and Thom would be coming, right?"

"They'll be here today, yes. I read the message on the dove myself before letting you come out in this weather. Thom's knightmaster will be here as well. I know that you've never met Duke Roger, but I've heard only good of him. The poor man was beside himself when their majesties lost the prince four years ago, came straight back from his work in Carthak."

Alanna stepped away when Maude produced a hairbrush, but Maude's expression made her reconsider. Even if it was almost unbearable to brush hair when it had dampened into messes of curls, she should at least be presentable for her mother's funeral. Maude had been one of her mother's closest friends, rank be damned, and this was for both of them. Alanna stilled and let Maude brush her hair with long, even strokes, just as she'd done for Lady Marinie. "I haven't seen Thom in years, Maude. We write letters, but not often, and it's like he's an entirely different person."

"He's an odd lad, that's all," Maude said. "Coram thinks sometimes that all the boy loves is magic, his knightmaster, and his favorite twin sister."

Alanna let a wry smile steal at her lips. Expressions had turned into calculated weapons, recently, but she could relax when there was nobody else to see. "Sometimes, I almost miss Coram more. He's much more cautious about sending letters. He'll add a postscript to Thom's, on occasion, but it's not the same as talking to him. Thom can be... vexing." It was too mild of a word, lately, but she loved her twin too much to say anything harsher.

Maude nodded, saving her opinions about Master Thom. The twins always had been close, but there always was a difference. Thom had ventured home weeks after his mother had taken sick. He was still a day from Trebond when Marinie had slipped away, her husband and daughter at her side. Maude directed her glare at the approaching horses, less than a minute away by the sound of the hoofbeats, but saved her softest voice for the lady of Trebond.

"Come now, lamb. You're the lady of this manor. I know you hate posture, but I know that you can be a credit to this rural manor."

"Rural in itself implies large spreads of land. Ours happen to be suitable for farming," Alanna said, with the superior glint in her eye that she had hated learning. Still, Maude's well-timed words had the precisely desired effect, and Alanna's back was as straight as a royal's. It felt wrong, but Maude smiled at that little display. "I can greet a duke, my brother, and my favorite man in the army."

"That's my girl," Maude said. "You've grown so much, my lady."

Alanna was somewhere between heartbreak and pride. Maude had called her mother by that title, and she didn't feel like the lady of Trebond. She didn't show that peculiar emotion, as was proper. Instead, she straightened her coarse wrap of black lace and stepped forward to greet her guests.

"Alanna!"

Sometimes, she couldn't stand her distant brother, and sometimes he wrapped his arms around her, and she could feel the muscle he had worked so hard to build, and she couldn't imagine living without a twin. "It's so good to see you," she said into his cropped hair, before pulling back so she could look at her brother. "What a sight you make, in your dress finery! Mother said that she knew that her boy would be a knight, you know."

"I'm sorry that I didn't make it Alanna, really," he began, but she stopped him. Alanna had never been able to hold a grudge against Thom for long.

"Mother didn't blame you, and I wouldn't. You'll just remember her in her prime, that's all." Alanna remembered her half-gone on her arrival, though she'd rather be rid of the memory. Only spells driven by power and desperation had brought her mother back from empty-eyed pain.

"Lady Alanna, is it?" Thom's knightmaster asked smoothly, ignoring the impropriety of greeting her brother and ignoring a ranked guest. "Why is it that such a beautiful lady would sequester herself among mountains?"

Alanna released her brother and gave a deep curtsy, as befitted a duke that was brother to the king. "You are kind, your Grace, but I am only sixteen. My debut in the formal court will be this fall." Roger took her hand gracefully, and she suppressed the urge to shudder when his lips grazed her gloved knuckles.

"I am sure that the court will find itself improved by your presence."

Her first encounter with a nobleman, and he made her skin crawl. Duke Roger's face was handsome, his body was well-muscled, and his voice and compliments were pleasant. It might be the circumstances that made her want to back away quickly. That measuring look of his didn't belong near anyone's funeral, but she wouldn't disgrace her fief's hospitality by making her distaste obvious. She didn't like him, but that couldn't show.

Alanna told herself that she was only angry because she couldn't greet Coram properly. A lady had to have perfect manners as dictated by society, and society controlled everything from the plain black trim on her gloves to the distant look in her eyes when she addressed the man that had taught her to ice skate.

"I trust the trip went well, Coram?" The words were cool, and her expression perfect in its distance, but Coram smiled at the supercilious lady.

"Very well, m'lady," he said with a shallow bow. "It's good to be home. I'll take the horses, now, with your permission. Squire Thom, your Grace."

That was her cue. "If you would be so kind as to join us inside, there are refreshments available. You are the last guests to arrive. The priest to the Black God will begin his service shortly," she said, and wondered why there was no hitch in her voice. Lady Thele had taught Alanna well, it seemed.

Time skipped and jumped, and she couldn't remember if the light luncheon went well or just what the Black God's priest had said in his eulogy. He had served the entire far-spread community, but had said many complimentary things about Lady Marinie. It seemed that everyone had adored her mother. Her father managed to choke out a few words as well, but that was all the world would ask of Lord Alan that day.

Then, it was time for her to stand. Alanna didn't understand why it was a lady's job, but it was her duty to perform. She stood, back straight, and let herself think that it was a stranger's casket. The carved roses in the blond wood were filled with water, and a weak current flowed down the trailing vines.

She looked to the hole. It was a rectangular gap in the earth eight feet deep, dug the day before Marinie had died. Their weather-telling mage, a wizened old man crying quietly in the third row of chairs, had predicted rain, and the sensible men responsible for such things as graves had dug the straight-sided chasm while the earth was dry and her mother was still alive.

Even the earth inside that hole was moving, oozing down, and nothing in her life had ever been as hard as looking to that priest of the Black God. She was a woman, the fairer gender, the _weaker _gender from what they all said, but she was the one to nod. The priest, his face hidden and secret, nodded in reply, then said some phrase in a whisper.

Alanna stood as the casket descended so gently into the hole, with such care that there was no jarring at the bottom. She had been the one to nod, so she was the first to look down in that hole and see the casket already touched with dirt. The only colors were shades of brown.

Alanna walked away, her steps perfectly even on ground as unsteady as her emotions. Since that first greeting, Thom might as well have been one of the assorted mourners who had offered their generic condolences. He seemed embarrassed that he had hugged her, and spent his time speaking with his knightmaster.

She didn't go into the house. Instead, she headed straight for the stables. Coram was there just half a minute later.

"There, lass, you're a beautiful lady," he said when she hugged him close. "I'll have to be beating the suitors away with my battlesword. Now, just why did my lady want a rough and tumble old soldier for company?"

"I don't want to be proper for just an hour, Coram. Can you- I need time to be alone," she said. Her earlier smooth words were gone, and she sounded all too close to tears.

"Let's just go in the forest," he said quietly. "There's no one there, and I'll be in earshot if you need me." Callused fingers wiped at her tears, smudging her carefully applied makeup when she nodded.

Thom had grown harder and colder under his watch. It was a relief to see that Alanna was the same as she had been, even if she had finally mastered the impulses that had gotten her in trouble so often as a child. He had already received the command from Thom that he would serve Alanna as a guard, when necessary, and for once Coram hadn't been annoyed by the boy's airs. Coram hadn't been able to do much at all for the young boy, but he at least would be able to help Alanna. He would bunk with the palace guardsmen, of course, but he could help her to hire a maid and be sure that the servants knew to look after her. She was less and less like her brother, and he couldn't help but approve.

He let her have her solitude. She had been a quarter hour alone in the forest, and he would give her much longer than that if there was a need. Coram would not have given her brother nearly so much time, but he was nearly finished with the boy. Thom had tried his patience the last years, and had only become a competent fighter under Duke Roger's guidance. It stung Coram more than a little, that he couldn't motivate the lad into reaching half his potential when his knightmaster managed affairs neatly in a matter of months.

Alanna would have dragged her feet all the way to Corus, to avoid learning magic, but at ten she'd still had more drive than Thom. She wanted to do great things, she had told him, earnest violet eyes catching his. He had believed her, and it had almost broken his heart to see her riding off to the convent, toes limply pointing down in the sidesaddle she hated.

He leaned against a tree, feeling the wet bark press through his dress jerkin. It was thin, and he would be setting it aside. The next formal occasion he would have would be Thom's Ordeal of Knighthood. The boy would make it, if only so Roger would teach him the extra skills needed to begin studying magic with the Mithran priests. Alanna's proud moment would be soon, but the arrangements for that were quieter. He would be in the uniform of the Palace Guard, so that he could see her grand entrance to the court without making any fuss. Duke Gareth had been immediately understanding when Coram made the request all those months ago, and now Coram would stand for Marinie as well.

He couldn't believe that Lady Marinie had died, and that he hadn't been able to see her. Thom and Roger had left ten days after the original announcement, and Thom could not spur his horse to a greater speed even when reports came that her health was weakening. Coram had thought of riding ahead, but that would shame Thom.

Coram didn't like magic, but he loved Alanna like she was his own flesh and blood. Maude had told him just what his lady had done. Marinie had been doing poorly, when Alanna arrived. The lady had been gray as death and retching, and the priest was already sitting vigil for the Black God. Alanna had taken her hand, and… Maude had shaken her head, and explained that she didn't understand big magic like that. It wasn't a spell. It was power and desire bound up so close that there wasn't any difference_. _When Maude rode with Alanna back to the convent, she would speak to a teacher. Coram had agreed without reservations. He wouldn't have to see the magic, and it was important that Alanna knew.

Coram heard- voices? He frowned, old senses stealing back as if he was a corporal at just past twenty. He was in charge of just ten men, to be sure, and they were a mass among thousands, but he had been the one to save late Duke Gareth's life, once. There was a younger Gareth, now, one that until lately had been as mischievous as his father. Thom didn't get on with the bigger lad, but Thom got on with no one but Roger and the mirror in recent days.

He didn't sense any danger, and hadn't heard any crying after the first ten minutes. He had thought that she had just stopped her sobs, but she didn't talk to herself. The very sound of that strange voice replying to her was worse than that feeling just before the horn blew the charge; it was anticipating that insane motion forward that had won that war, feeling the men around him tense and ready, trying to clear his mind even as fear and glory battled.

He moved forward, heavy feet making no sound in the soaked forest ground. Even if it was a harmless meeting, he wanted to know who trespassed in Trebond's woods.

He had heard the oath "By the Goddess," and many oaths stronger and less religious, frequently. He had been a soldier, after all, and soldiers weren't renowned for polite speaking. Until that moment, though, with the budding trees slowing the heavy drops of rain, and the forest yielding beneath his knees, he hadn't understood the sense of wonder that should accompany it.

His Alanna, his lady, took a glowing coal from the Goddess. Alanna's hands were shaking, just as his were, and Alanna said something with surprise as she peered at the ember in her hands. The Lady smiled and said something in reply, and for a second her gaze flicked his way. His heart stopped and leapt at once—and then it was over, and the Lady was gone. Even the merest whisper of her voice had power behind it, and no rain had fallen on her. He knew, more than he knew any matter of being a soldier, that he had seen the Goddess.

He pulled himself up with an obliging tree, and saw his incredulous look reflected in Alanna's face. She looked as if she would be beaming, if it all wasn't too confusing, and she was every inch a lady.

"Put your wrap back on your shoulders, lady," he said, the rough words coming before thought could prompt them. "You'll catch cold sooner than wet."

"He needs it more," she said, shifting the thick lace to reveal a bedraggled kitten.

Coram touched the small kitten, feeling its pulse. There would be no convincing Alanna to take the covering off of the scrap of fur and bones, but she didn't protest when he draped his cloak over her. "He'll be just fine. Now, let's get you inside," he said, noticing that her hand was loosely closed over a stone that glowed from the inside. His lady had a token from the Goddess, and even he knew enough of lore to realize that she was one of those rare souls that just might become a legend.

"Yes, I think he will," she said, looking at the bundle of black. The kitten yawned, showing sharp ivory teeth against pink mouth, and opened sleepy eyes.

Coram would have dropped his sword, if it had ever left its scabbard. The kitten had purple eyes.

"Sister Thele told of times the Goddess would come to a woman," Alanna said, distant wonder in her eyes. "I think it would be best to tell no one but Maude just yet, though."

"Not Thom?" Coram asked, troubled. He and Maude might lose patience with Thom's ways, but Alanna…

"Not Thom," she said, gracefully stepping over a tricky gnarl of roots. "I need time to think about this, and I will be returning to the convent next week. Sister Emmarie was kind enough to offer extra lessons to compensate for any I have missed."

Coram had collected himself enough to take her arm. There was no one here to see, and she was distracted with kitten and token. There had been a few minutes to speak with Maude, before the funeral, and she had told him of Alanna's promise. Alanna had hated every minute of learning to be a lady, it seemed, but Coram was fairly certain that it would be better when she had reached the capital. He'd be able to look out for her, there, and perhaps she would do what Coram hadn't been able to manage.

Alanna was the only person with a hope of bringing Thom back to himself, and finally drawing the boy away from Duke Roger's influence. Her fall debut couldn't come soon enough.


	3. Chapter Two

_Ladies Cythera of Elden and Delia of Eldorne are both from canon. Originally, Cythera was Gary's wife and Thayet's social secretary. Muirne is my own creation and will play only a minor role: I needed someone else of the right age, and I stretched enough of the story to delay Cythera's debut for a year._

**Chapter Two**

Alanna might have been preparing for this day for the last six years of her life, but she still didn't feel ready to be introduced to all of the court at once. She had just ridden into Corus the day before, with Coram steering her carefully through the crowd and proudly introducing her to the many vendors that he knew by name. Maude had gone straight to the palace with all of Alanna's things, as long rides on horseback left her craving stillness and peace. Maude had somehow managed to have the entire small suite in perfect order when Alanna rushed in to change in time for an informal supper with a few of the court ladies she knew from the convent.

Coram must have introduced her to a quarter of the city that first afternoon, but he was very upset when the man with the bright hazel eyes had looked her over and introduced himself. Coram had bristled with disapproval, but Faithful had purred from his usual place on her shoulder. That had been the only cue Alanna needed to shake the strange man's hand. Coram grouched for an hour afterward, though Mr. Cooper hardly seemed different than most of the merchants in the small street that was barely a stone's throw from the palace's walls.

Coram had already brought her to the right hallway for her formal introduction to the capital's nobles and the king. He hadn't been able to stay, since he'd be watching from the ballroom itself, but he had already found permission for her to wait in a servant's alcove for the half hour before the formal introduction. That let her sit demurely, at least, because otherwise she would be pacing up and down the hall for everyone to notice. Maude was acting as her maid, but she'd stayed back in the rooms they were sharing. Maude hated fuss and formal occasions, and Alanna had promised that she would take no offense if Maude stayed in their suite. As soon as Alanna hired a proper maid, Maude would be riding back to Trebond to look after Lord Alan. Maude had told Alanna that some people weren't meant for cities, and Corus had done nothing to change her.

Faithful would stay in Corus with her, at least, even if there was no excuse to bring a cat to formal court functions. She would have felt much calmer with her cat perched on her shoulder, but the ember-stone would have to do. Maude had woven a choker around it with silver wire just a day after hearing how Alanna had come by the stone, and the wire was filled with small spells of mending-magic to be sure that the stone didn't slip out of place. She did feel a little calmer when she wrapped two fingers around the cool stone, even if that new calm came at a poor time.

The rest of the procession was arriving, finally. Alanna had been early so that Coram could escort her to the right place, and because Maude had begun to get leaky-eyed (which would make Alanna start tearing up, which would ruin their careful work on her makeup) when she fixed Alanna's long tangle of red curls up into an elegant knot with just a few escaping tendrils. By some luck, the unruly locks of hair looked more like an intentional style than a sign that Alanna couldn't control her own hair. The jet black dress didn't suit her coloring at all, but she wasn't about to break the full period of mourning just to look a little better at her debut. She had inherited her mother's black pearl eardrops, though, and they were tinted subtly with purple. With the ember-stone, her hair and her ear-drops were the only color that she was likely to wear for the next year. Maude had said that it was wonderful to have red hair, at a time like that, but Alanna was rather convinced that it only meant that so much black made it look as though she would glow in the dark.

She could hear the quiet talk of two other ladies to be introduced, Cythera of Elden and Muirne of Blackpool. By all rights, Cythera would have been introduced the year before, but her family was closely linked to the queen's. She had waited her full year of mourning Queen Lianne's death to be introduced at the court, and was widely expected to steal the heart of every young man there. Muirne was the favorite to take second place, unless the previous year's Delia of Eldorne settled for anyone that wasn't Duke Roger. Just one day of living in the palace had told Alanna more than she ever cared to know about Delia's one-sided pursuit of the duke.

Alanna squeezed the ember-stone one last time before standing carefully and adjusting the draping of her skirts and checking the neckline of her dress for any unraveling in the delicate lacework. Maude had done all of the lace in a beautiful fine silk thread that didn't chafe at all, and Alanna wouldn't have all of that work ruined by a careless snag against the wire choker she always wore. When she was satisfied that she looked every inch a lady to make Trebond proud, she stepped out of her little alcove.

More people had arrived while she waited. She couldn't see Cythera or Muirne, but she could hear the quiet conversation carry on even past the two large knights that had blocked her view of the other ladies. The lankier knight had dark brown hair and a bad-tempered scowl on his face, an expression she could only partially see when he turned to glare at his even larger companion. The bigger of the two knights seemed to be entirely made of muscle with black hair on top, and looked ready to burst right out of a plush green-and-yellow tunic. For all of his size, the black-haired man's expression was far gentler when he looked over at his friend.

Alanna had been ready to introduce herself, as she had always taken the forward role when the ladies at the convent met young men, but the brown-haired knight's scowl deepened in a way that made her think conversation with him would not be pleasant.

"I heard Whiner Thom's sister is to be introduced tonight," he grumbled. His voice was quiet, but the words carried perfectly well with Alanna just five feet behind him. "Near-identical twin, no less, as if there aren't enough cows at court."

Alanna's tendency for impudent retorts had earned her a record amount of punishment work at the convents, and it was only through those years of unpleasant labor that she confined her protest to biting her lip, hard. It didn't matter to her what some rude knight thought. She would refuse to dignify that remark with any kind of comment.

"Gary-" the big knight warned, but it wasn't nearly enough.

"Raoul," he returned viciously. The lanky knight might have been attractive, if smiling, but his sneer changed all of his features ugly. "Do you even remember what that brat was like as a page? Thom _broke the Code, _for someone as useless as Ralon_, _and my father always said that Thom's sire isn't of any use. I'd wager ten gold nobles from kissing Roxanne right back that the sister's the type to have the pages running themselves ragged to keep her fanned and pampered."

Alanna would leave a bruise in her lip, at this rate, but a lady didn't have any other options. She had promised her mother that she would be a lady of the court, and maybe she could even find someone likable once she was inside. Lady Cythera had always been kind when they were at the convent, together, even when Alanna had been the perpetual scapegrace. Cythera had even taught her how to mend tears in skirts in their first year, a feat that had been entirely beyond the sewing mistress.

"My lord of Naxen." Perhaps the gods had heard, because faint footsteps interrupted Gary before he could start again. Lady Cythera's voice was shaking, but it wasn't from fear or shyness. Alanna knew that Cythera would only move that far from protocol if she were truly angry,and Alanna felt a little braver even if Cythera didn't say a single word more.

"My lady," Gary said, bowing curtly. Alanna couldn't see Cythera past the two knights, but just imagining the likely scene let her relax enough to unclench her fists.

"I am Cythera of Elden," the wonderful lady said coldly. "You have done my friend a large disservice. Lady Alanna would have understood the loss of your father, as she buried her mother just last season."

Gary, evidently, was one of those men that didn't understand how to lose an argument gracefully. "You cannot possibly compare a backwoods noble to the training master for the entire country."

Alanna's magic hummed around her. Consequences or no, if that man said _one _more word about her mother, she was going to see how many traditions she could destroy at once. There were still provisions for a woman to challenge a man to a duel, if the insult to honor were great enough, but a stranger's voice interrupted the entire gathering before she could gather any words.

"Sir Gareth, you disgrace yourself." The speaker was male, and his words had a very firm precision as he strode out of the ballroom. "Sir Raoul, the next time he speaks such bile, you will please sit on him."

"I believe that you heard only the ending, Sir Myles," Lady Cythera said politely, turning her back to Gary. "He began with insults to Squire Thom, Lady Alanna, and their father Lord Alan."

Alanna's anger had left her all at once, leaving her crimson and embarrassed and just waiting for someone to realize that she'd left defending her family's honor to Cythera. The safe alcove was twelve steps behind her. All that prevented her from hiding until this was entirely forgotten was knowing that Coram was waiting in the ballroom, and that he'd worry if she didn't get her introduction just like the other ladies.

The new knight, when she finally caught a glimpse of him, was not what she expected. He was rather short, and well-rounded at the belly, but the kind eyes were promising. He had to reach very high to grasp the brown-haired knight by the shoulder, but Sir Myles wasn't shy about looking the taller man in the eye. "You and Raoul will report to me tomorrow after luncheon for a review of knightly etiquette and the code of chivalry, Gareth," Myles said quietly. "Expect to review the proper format of a letter of apology."

Alanna wished that her Gift would allow her to sink into the floor just a moment later. Myles had forced Gary and Raoul apart, and that left her clearly in view of Cythera, Muirne, Sir Myles, and both of the big knights. She kept her head up by pure stubbornness, even if she knew that her face was as red as her hair.

'Gareth' had the grace to blanch, and the black-haired knight looked horrified, but Sir Myles didn't say a word more to them. "Lady Alanna, I presume," the knight said kindly. "May I escort you tonight? I am afraid that no one of the correct age is available."

Alanna took several seconds to regain her composure, but no one said anything about the delay. "Thank you," she said, her voice almost normal. "Lady Cythera, I had no time to send you an invitation to tea today, but perhaps tomorrow will be acceptable? You would be welcome to join us, Lady Muirne."

Cythera recovered faster than Muirne, just as it had always been in school. "I would be delighted, Alanna. Sir Myles, I am sure that we could amuse Lady Alanna in the time that it takes you to find two other men that would like to escort a lady in."

Gary and Raoul had enough shame to vanish, and by the time Myles returned with a high-ranking mage and Duke Roger, Alanna was talking animatedly with Cythera and Muirne about the process of hiring a proper maid. By rights, Duke Roger would escort his squire's twin, but Sir Myles had taken Alanna's arm before she could think of a way to avoid Thom's knightmaster. Duke Roger showed no sign of disappointment, though, and took Cythera's arm readily. Muirne was quite pleased to be left with Harailt of Ali, one of the youngest men to ever earn his doctorate at a Tortallan university for the Gifted.

The introduction was nice enough, at least, and she could tell from across the room that Coram was proud of her. King Roald complimented her for taking after her mother in looks, and even said that the court could do with one of Lady Marinie's spirit. She kept her composure enough to say that her mother had always spoken kindly of Queen Lianne. No one present mentioned the late Prince Jonathan, in any way. Even years after the sweating sickness had taken him, no one in the court would say his name. Duke Roger was the only courtier to dare, but most folk thought that he'd earned the right. He had been in Carthak when the illness struck, and had begun the search for the culprit the instant he heard of the disease. He had been unsuccessful, perhaps, but merely the thought of discovery had been enough to stop the coward that had killed Tortall's prince from striking the queen. (Lianne had died of grief shortly after, but she had been happier knowing that Roger had come home to look after her husband.)

She liked sitting by Sir Myles. Alanna was still upset at the insults to her mother, even if the words about her brother had seemed all too accurate, but Myles didn't care that she said little. Even better, Cythera was just a few seats down, and after the first few courses she drew Alanna into the table's conversation about the differences between the convent's training and the reality of formal court dinners. All of it was light, of course, with barely any criticisms of instructors or court. No one ever seemed to speak about important things in such a public place, and the sisters had made sure that all of their ladies could speak for hours about nothing in particular.

She said as much to Sir Myles, when he was kind enough to walk her back to her room, and he laughed at her impertinence. "Goodness, my lady, you can't imagine that we do anything so obviously useful with our days or we might be mistaken for people that work for their living," he had told her. "If you would like... it does little for your social standing, perhaps, but I would be delighted if you would join a discussion of recent poetry tomorrow. That's a long-standing name for meetings that always devolve into speaking loudly about politics."

Alanna had agreed to that without reservation, not minding at all when Myles warned her that she would be the youngest attendee by far, and he had promised that any servant or page would be able to direct her to his office three hours or so before dinner.

Surely enough, the first page she found the next day was delighted to show her the way. Alanna had nothing in the way of pocket-money to afford the usual tip, but that wasn't at all a problem for any page finding Sir Myles' office. Myles immediately commended the boy about his most recent essay, and the page flushed with pride to see an entire roomful of nobles nodding approvingly. Myles sent him away with an orange and a very large smile before complimenting Alanna on her choice.

"Anders of Mindelan is a fine young lad, a credit to his parents," Duke Baird agreed. "Is this your newest protege, Myles?"

Alanna blushed as Myles showed her to an empty chair. She was the youngest present, as advertised, but Myles hadn't told her that the gathering would hold many of the most important people in the realm. Duke Baird was quite young to be the chief healer for all of Corus, but even the prince's death couldn't mar his reputation. "Hardly," Alanna demurred. "Sir Myles stepped in to mend a situation and invited me along at the end of the night."

She recognized Harailt from the night before, but this was a very informal group. Myles pointed out several people during breaks in the conversation, but there were no formal introductions. This meant there were no formal declarations of sympathy for her mother's death, so Alanna couldn't bring herself to care for the impropriety. She spent very little of the time talking, so she was very surprised to realize it was already time for supper. She hadn't even been that interested in the politics behind distributing funds, but it was very interesting to watch so many nobles working together. Myles was informally the training master for the pages and squires, even if the king had not yet appointed anyone to the post after Duke Gareth's death. Baird headed both palace infirmaries, for nobles and servants, as well as several charity-funded clinics within the city itself. Harailt spoke for the libraries and university, a dark-haired woman seemed to have the charge of every servant in the palace, and a young brown-haired man spoke for the stables.

It seemed that King Roald had been declining rapidly since the death of his wife, so this council of nobles and a few commoners was politely and quietly conducting all of the palace business. Alanna offered her opinion twice, and both times she blushed to have an entire room listening avidly and with every sign of approval. Trebond had frequently dealt with bandits, and her mother had created several ideas to make the attacks less frequent. She also knew a small amount of healing, and was pleased to accept Duke Baird's recommendation of several tutors. He wouldn't have time to take on an apprentice with no formal training, of course, but he did promise to show her several of his favorite treatments when she felt ready.

Alanna had no proof that the group was secret, but several things about it were exceedingly odd. The dark-haired woman left first, nodding to Myles on her way out, and was soon followed by the brown-haired man. A few of the quieter visitors left next, never in a group larger than two, and Harailt followed them. Baird was the last of the guests to leave, after insisting that Myles give a formal introduction to the lady.

Alanna waited until the door closed behind Duke Baird before turning to Myles. "I don't know why you've invited me to this, when you know nothing about me and it's obvious that this group is meant to be kept quite secret."

Myles smiled, but didn't deny anything. "On the contrary, a close friend of mine has said that you are quite trustworthy, and that I should meet you if it was in my power. I hope that you will not feel I manipulated circumstances."

"Not at all," Alanna said. "I meant to thank you, yesterday, but I was mostly focusing on keeping my mouth shut before I started reacting. It wasn't beyond enduring until he started in on my mother."

"It was no trouble, Lady Alanna, and—ah, here we are," Myles said, withdrawing a rumpled letter from a pile of books on his desk. "I cannot promise any quality of its contents, but Sir Gareth did indeed write you a letter of apology. There is also a letter from Sir Raoul. I hope you will forgive me if I defend them, but it is highly unusual for Gary to lash out at someone he had never met."

"It sounded as if he knew Thom well enough to be annoyed," Alanna said, skimming the letter. It was all very politely written, of course, but she had the strong feeling that they would not be friends any time soon. Gary's pride had been hurt by apologizing to a lady of such low social standing, and he couldn't have appreciated Sir Myles taking her side of things. Raoul's letter seemed far more sincere, and she really couldn't blame the big man. It had been obvious even from her perspective that Raoul was too mortified to think of containing his friend, especially when Raoul hadn't known that she was there.

Myles asked for her opinions of the letters and the men, as brutal as she would care to make them, and to her surprise he listened to the entire list of conclusions. "Extremely accurate, milady. I do hope that Gary will come around, in time. He was always impulsive and loud, but..."

"Lady Cythera mentioned his father's death," Alanna prompted.

"Gary won't be trusted near deserts for years, I'm afraid. Duke Gareth the Elder was on a peace mission to the Bazhir, and by all accounts it was going quite well. The Tribe of the Bloody Hawk is rather welcoming, as the tribes go, and Gareth sent a letter to me just two days before. The tribe as a whole was wonderful, understand, but its shaman saw the presence of Tortallan negotiators of some kind of threat." Myles' placid manner had vanished entirely. He bit off each word as if it was bitter to the taste, and his left hand had clenched into a fist. "The tribe's shaman drew a Gate of Idramm with none of the usual protections. Every last person was lost, from Duke Gareth down to the smallest of the children. I think the king put all that he had left in him after keeping the country from another war with the Bazhir."

Alanna didn't know what a Gate of Idramm was, but she understood the dangers of magic done without any precautions. Thom would know just what it was, of course, because he had always cared more for magic than for knighthood. She had already heard the rumor that Squire Thom had only consented to try for knighthood so that Duke Roger would take him on as a magical apprentice.

"It's terrible," Alanna said finally. "What do the Bazhir say of it?"

Myles' eyes gleamed, and he lost the anger entirely when he smiled at her. "Lady Alanna, I have never had reason to doubt this disreputable friend of mine. Only one in fifty would think to ask that question, and I do hope you will accept my permanent invitation to that little circle of friends. You are new at court, but in short order I believe your perspective will be immensely valuable."

She was still recovering from that much praise all at once when he continued. "To answer your question, the Bazhir response is quite varied. We are all fortunate in that the Voice of the Tribes has seen the truth in our accounting, that no Tortallan would have provoked the tragedy. Ali Mukhtab is a wise man, and he has kept the loudest of the warmongers from attacking just yet."

"Duke Gareth would have been in line for the throne," Alanna remembered, tracing the genealogies that the convent had held so important. "With the prince and queen gone, and the king so ill... I imagine that Duke Roger will take the throne?"

"He has already begun to gather supporters," the knight said mildly, a study in casualness as he searched for her reaction.

Alanna liked Myles and his frank way of speaking enough to take a risk. "I don't like Duke Roger. Perhaps it's rude of me, but he didn't leave the best of impressions when I met him." She might have chalked her initial dislike up to nerves, but she had been sure that very night. Faithful had hissed when Roger reached to tilt up the kitten's chin, and Faithful had proven to be an exceedingly good judge of character.

Myles smiled again, and looked as if he would have hugged her if they had been standing any closer. "You are a marvel, Lady Alanna. This office is quite well protected from listening when the door is closed, as you might have surmised, but I fear that we will have to retreat to the more polite subjects at dinner tonight. I believe that some old fool in charge of seating has placed you at my table, not thinking that you should be ranked far higher."

"Rank has a way of sorting itself out, Sir Myles," Alanna said, exhaling slowly. It would be hard to come down from so many stacked revelations into the frivolity of dinner conversation, but the convent had prepared her well. Myles was even kind enough to offer his arm.

She might damage her marriage prospects, being seen on the arm of a court drunkard old enough to be her father, but her mother had never wanted her to marry for status. Lady Marinie had said to marry for respect and affection, and the rest would all come out alright. Alanna was from a poor fief that had spent most of its money outfitting Thom properly, and the rest on her father's research. It would be very good for her pocketbook that she was in mourning, as she would not be expected to constantly buy new dresses. Hiring a maid would be difficult, when she had a handful of copper nobles until her father sent the year's allowance, but perhaps Myles might have some ideas.

Lady Cythera had said that afternoon that Sir Myles was charming, and had complimented Alanna for choosing an excellent mentor. Both Cythera and Muirne thought that Alanna would take after her father and Sir Myles, amusing herself by writing up research projects and mucking about the library. Research sounded like an excellent idea when the company was so interesting, and maybe at the next of Myles' meetings she would understand much more of what they were discussing.

She saw her brother from across the dining hall that night. They nodded to each other, and Alanna smiled, but Thom vanished immediately after supper.

Even with Sir Myles again walking her back to her room, and Maude fussing over her, it still hurt that her own brother was giving her the cold shoulder. She would have to find him the next day, or the day after that, because she had already lost her mother. Her father, when he did withdraw from his books, had showed a genuine affection for his wife and a rather distant approval for his children. She liked him, she supposed, but she had more affection for her teachers at the convent.

Thom was the only family she had left, and nobody would take him away from her.


	4. Chapter Three

_The feedback from this story has been wonderful. As always, please let me know if there are any parts that could be more clear. For this chapter, I would also love your suggestions about names that are appropriate to Tortall and the surrounding areas. I have a few ideas, but I have several original characters with minor parts that haven't found fitting names yet. _

**Chapter Three **

Alanna's first party at a noble's town home was an unmitigated disaster.

Her hair had behaved itself, which seemed to be of great importance at all social occasions, and she hadn't been gauche enough to spill any of her dinner onto her dress. Her ember pendant was frequently admired, and two married women had commended her for modesty in not disclosing who had given her such a present. Alanna had even held onto her temper when seated at a table with Sir Gareth. His actual title was Duke Gareth, but it seemed that everyone was still too cautious to make some mention of the late Duke Gareth. Gary (as his friends called him) ignored her entirely, but Raoul was rather nice. He apologized for not speaking up at her debut, she readily accepted the unnecessary followup to his sincere apology letter, and the two of them danced after dinner. She had been dwarfed next to Raoul, of course, but the two of them had bantered about height instead of exchanging useless comments about the flowers or the dessert. It was an accomplishment to dance with Sir Raoul at all, let alone twice, so that should have been enough to make an uncontested success of her night.

Really, it might be more fair to say that most of the evening had been lovely, but that's not what any of the gossips would say. They wouldn't remember that her second-best black dress had drawn several compliments, or that quite a few young knights had been pleasantly surprised by Squire Thom's sister. (She politely ignored the large numbers of people that seemed shocked to find that she had a basic grasp of etiquette, and resolved again to have a word with her twin.) The gossip would omit that Alanna had charmed the hostess, and would forget entirely that Duke Baird had introduced her to several other nobles whose Gift was suited to healing. All the Court would hear was that Alanna's knight-escort to the party, Sir Alex of Tirragen, had vanished from the party after just half an hour of dancing, and that Lady Delia of Eldorne was similarly nowhere to be found.

It would have been a scandal for Lady Delia, perhaps, but it seemed that the Court was tired of gossip that centered on Lady Delia. The story would be that Lady Alanna's escort found her company so dull that he left the party with Delia in his arms.

Sir Myles saved her yet again. She was in no mood to stay for an entire night of hearing people re-tell the story with increasing variations, and he was the very embodiment of courtesy when he helped with her wrap and walked through the correct series of goodbyes with her. There would be no further reason for gossip, with Myles to quietly coach her in a few changes in the usual etiquette, and it might even turn sympathy to her side more quickly than usual. She was openly leaving the party in the company of a well-respected man, and the gossips had quickly noted that Sir Myles had finished only one glass of wine with dinner.

"With any luck, you'll be deemed a good influence on an old reprobate, and Sir Alex a cad for leaving you," Myles said when they were on the street, and safely away from the party. He was openly wearing a sword, as was a knight's privilege, but he was quite at ease as they passed through the streets, paying more attention to her than their surroundings.

"It did sound that Lady Delia has had too many stories to be all that interesting," Alanna agreed. She hadn't allowed Alex the privilege earlier, when he obviously hadn't wanted anything to do with her, but she had taken Myles' arm without a moment's thought. She trusted him and liked him, and to her relief he didn't seem interested in a marriage. He wanted a friend. "Thank you, Myles, I really didn't want to stay."

Myles waved off the thanks, but she thought that he appreciated hearing it regardless. "I do wish that I could offer some defense for Sir Alex, but all I can say is that everyone thought he would be Roger's squire. Instead, Duke Roger waited until your brother was available, and very quickly made an enemy in Alex."

"You don't need to defend all of the court, Myles. I know that my brother has made quite a few enemies, and I have noticed that all of them seem to think that I should be involved." Alanna paused, looking to her right. "I think I heard something. Perhaps we should talk when we reach the palace?"

Myles looked around them, checking up on the rooftops as well as the openings to all visible alleys. His voice was very quiet when he replied. "A reasonable precaution. I rarely have problems with thieves when I walk this route, but it's best to not invite trouble."

Despite his words, a thief besieged them just two blocks later, with a loud cry that could hardly be what thieves would usually say. "Alright, Myles, stand and deliver!"

Myles glared at the thief, which seemed even less usual, and the man looked extremely confused to notice her on Myles' arm. It would have been comical if the thief wasn't bearing two long knives that showed signs of long use.

"Well, this isn't the usual circumstance," the thief said. If Alanna wasn't mistaken, the man sounded sheepish, which seemed even more at odds with how a thief would go about his work. "Hand the sword over to the lady, then, let her hold it."

Myles complied, and Alanna tried not to smile as she held a sword in her hands for the first time in a year. She had coaxed one of the apprentice mages into letting her keep his practice sword in exchange for several lessons on how to impress the ladies of the convent. Both of them had been extremely pleased with that deal: the charming young mage had been invited into a lady's bedroom three weeks later, and Alanna had managed to keep that sword for four whole months. Its balance had been much better than the sword she found lying in the hall after the boys used the ladies' ballroom for a fencing exhibition.

Myles was reasoning with the thief, explaining that he didn't have any cash or valuables at hand, but Alanna was watching the man's knives. They were the oddest knives she'd ever seen before, looking more like small swords with blades the length of her forearm than any kind of cooking knife, and they moved the same way as a sword. Alanna was only watching the swords and the motions of the thief, and perhaps that was why she missed the teasing tone of the exchange. Had she listened to the words, she would have known that the thief had already agreed to Myles' proposition. Myles would allow the thief to put a gold noble toward his tab at Old Solom's, if the thief would let them go about their way, but Alanna only saw the thief's reaction. Laughing, the man reached an arm toward Myles' shoulder. It would have registered as a much friendlier gesture if he had sheathed the knife first, and Alanna only saw a fast-moving hand moving a knife toward her friend's chest.

Alanna's sword struck fast in the pattern she had memorized, twisting around the man's knife like her sword was a snake grabbing at its prey. She had seen one of the great constricting snakes, once, when they toured the mage's workrooms for an outing. Only two of the ladies had stayed to watch the great nine-foot snake lunge at a large hare, wrapping it around in coils before the hare had time to scream.

The knife flew off to the left, and Alanna's sword stayed at the thief's throat with little conscious effort as some part of her mind analyzed the situation. She had run herself through drills in her room almost every morning to alleviate the boredom of learning protocol and etiquette, and she had used her own version of fencing lessons to improve her balance, poise, and stamina. She knew from the dozens and dozens of fights she had read that she had done the right thing. The stories were rather dry, perhaps, but the kind librarian in the convent had never thought it odd that Alanna read the blow-by-blow battle books meant to train young mages in how to use their swords.

The thief gaped at her, and dropped his jaw so quickly that it nearly collided with the tip of Myles' sword. When his second knife hit the ground, dropping from his flax hand, Alanna came back from the thrill of a fight enough to realize that Myles was laughing so hard that he could barely draw breath. That was enough to startle Alanna into blinking and stepping back four paces, giving herself room to think.

Myles recovered first, though he had been bent double with mirth, and collected the knife near his feet with a flourish. "Marek, forget the tab at Old Solom's, you'll never steal enough to bribe me out of sharing this story. Lady Alanna of Trebond, may I present Marek Swiftknife, who generally has the sense to be sure I do _not _have company before harassing his old friend for drinking money."

Alanna was mortified to have been caught at swordplay by someone so respectable, but Myles hadn't said a word about proper ladies never touching a sword or the wrongness of a woman defending herself against a brigand.

That might have been all of it, as the thief looked ready to vanish into the shadows and Myles was reaching to reclaim his sword, when a voice came out of an alleyway just ahead of them. "Well now, I've heard the strangest account t'night." The words were very deliberate, and if the accent was that of a commoner, the precision was something that some nobles never learned. When the speaker emerged from the shadows into the dim lights of the street lanterns, Alanna was shocked to recognize him.

"Mr. Cooper?"

The man looked far less menacing when he broke into a grin, and the light in his hazel eyes made him look rather friendly, for a tall, armed man coming out of a dark alley well after sunset. "Indeed, milady, George Cooper at your service. I didn't think you'd remember the introduction when there were so many coming all at once."

"It was just four days ago," Alanna said, relinquishing the sword to Myles before yet another person had the chance to realize how far from a proper lady she was. "Besides, Coram seemed quite upset that we had met at all."

Myles cleared his throat. "Well, perhaps I'll do introductions properly, if George doesn't mind." When the tall man shook his head, Myles continued. "Lady Alanna, may I present George Cooper, King of the Rogue. Colloquially, he is also known as the king of thieves. The gentleman with the spirited attempt at robbing us is Marek, the second-best knifeman in Corus. George here is the first."

"Marek, what've I told you about double-checkin' before you move in on a mark? Let alone a mark traveling with Sir Myles," George scolded lightly, flicking Marek's ear as he passed. Alanna hadn't thought the blow was all that hard, but Marek winced as if the small flick had truly hurt him. "For all you know, Myles had made himself friendly with a Shang, and then where would we be?"

"I think he's learned his lesson, George," Alanna's friend said mildly. The glint in Myles' eye was much more telling than the scholarly tone. "Marek had me give the lady my sword, so that she would be less afraid. I believe that Lady Alanna spent more time watching the body language than listening to the words, which is quite good for what I believe to be a first fight, and when Marek moved to tap me on the shoulder, he hadn't put away his knife. Alanna disarmed him."

Both of George's brows rose. "Well now, Myles, you do have the fortune of meetin' fascinating people. Lady Alanna, if I may be so bold, would you take tea with me? It seems you're a woman t'know, and I can promise the surroundings are appropriate. My mother won't be abed yet, she still keeps the hours from when she watched evenings at the Goddess's temple."

Myles would have vouched for the man, but Alanna had already made her decision. The man was certainly friendly, Myles liked him, and there was something about Mr. Cooper that made her feel like she didn't have to worry so much about protocol and rules and manners. "Very well, Mr. Cooper, I accept."

It was a very odd procession that reached Eleni Cooper's house just one bell before midnight. Marek saw them safely to the door, then left with a muttered apology to Alanna. Myles and George had talked of inconsequential matters for the whole of the walk, like recent new merchants coming into the markets, but both were quiet as George made a complicated series of raps on the door.

Alanna hadn't known what at all to expect, when meeting the mother of the king of thieves, but the practical-looking woman who opened the door immediately looked to be someone that Alanna cared to know. She had the same hazel eyes as her son, and if her hair was touched with grey at the temples, it only emphasized the wisdom in her expression.

"Hello, mother," George said, sweeping the woman into a hug. "Just like you asked, see? I came by, nobody's cut up, and I even brought guests. You've met Sir Myles, and this is Lady Alanna of Trebond. Lady Alanna, my mother, Eleni Cooper."

Alanna started. "The healer?" she asked.

Eleni frowned, peering at Alanna closely. She spent a long moment looking at the ember, and Alanna remembered that Eleni had taken the evening watch at the Goddess' temple. The woman might know exactly what the pendant meant. "We haven't met before, or I'd recognize you for certain with those eyes," was all Eleni said. "Where did you hear my name, milady?"

Alanna blushed, embarrassed to have put her hostess ill at ease. "Duke Baird recommended you as a potential teacher. I've a Gift for healing, but I've never had training in it."

"Well then! George, you have done quite well for the night," Eleni said, welcoming all of them in and bustling Alanna out of her wrap and into the pride-of-place seat. Alanna thought it really should have gone to Myles, but the tea was put on hold while Eleni asked several questions about magic and healing both. Alanna hardly knew what to answer, let alone with Myles and George listening on, but Myles cleared his throat when Eleni had finished her questions.

"Duke Baird has a report from Maude Tanner, also of Trebond," Myles said quietly. "Lady Alanna has had no formal training in healing, past scattered lessons with Maude before leaving for the convent, but she returned home last summer when her mother was badly taken with the swelling sickness. Alanna brought Lady Marinie out of the pain, and kept her lucid and comfortable for an entire week."

Eleni smiled at Alanna, brushing away a tear that had fallen when Alanna remembered seeing her mother fading at the end. "There now, milady, I couldn't have done nearly so much. You are a very rare combination, and I would be delighted to take you on as a student. You have a lot of potential, and even better you have a wonderful instinct about how to _use _it."

"I would be honored, Mistress Cooper."

"There, now, business done," Eleni said, standing to fetch the kettle off the fire. "I think all of us can be on friendly terms, if it suits the nobility." Alanna and Myles agreed instantly to that proposition, and the second dinner party of the night was dozens of times more entertaining than the first. They only had light snacks, a roll of soft bread spread in cheese each, but even the most elaborate meals wouldn't have made the stuffy town dinner any kind of comparison.

George said very little of thievery, except to promise Alanna that she should have been completely safe walking with Myles. Mostly, they talked about the palace and the city. George seemed to know about everything into the palace, even including Sir Gary's insults toward Alanna and her family, and Eleni knew all that there was to learn about the different charity clinics that would welcome Alanna's work as she learned her craft.

When Alanna left that impromptu party, she didn't get back to the palace until two bells past midnight. Myles would have walked her to her room, but Coram had been waiting at the gate leading out to the city. By the stiffness in his knees, he must have been standing out in the damp evening chill for two hours.

Sir Myles nodded to Coram, but took the unspoken message that Coram wanted to speak to his lady. Myles made his excuse that the other gate was closer to his rooms, heading back out into the city. Coram had already looked Alanna over, perhaps trying to find any signs of a scuffle, but only relaxed when both of them were inside the palace.

"I didn't mean to worry you, Coram," Alanna said. "I really didn't intend to stay out so late, but Mistress Cooper had so many useful things to say."

"Last I heard, you were at Lady Helena's and Sir Myles was walking you back after Sir Alex took up with that woman." Coram had heard enough of Alanna's convent troubles with Delia, and had been rather set against the woman even before Delia had created a game of batting her eyelashes at the youngest members of the Palace Guard to win favors. "I'm glad that you're well, though." He had visibly relaxed after hearing about 'Mistress Cooper,' but Alanna thought that might end very quickly when he learned that Mr. Cooper had also been present.

Alanna didn't want to lie to her friend, but her bed was just two hallways away. "I'll tell you the details tomorrow," Alanna promised, making a compromise with herself. "I was planning on taking lunch in my rooms, anyway, to stay away from the gossips, and it would only make sense. Maude misses you, too, and we could make a whole afternoon of it." That would also let her get away with telling the story once. Coram definitely wouldn't approve of thieves, especially after he knew that Alanna had met George Cooper again, but he would be very pleased that she could defend herself and that Mistress Cooper had agreed to take her on as a student.

Coram had taught her the basics of fighting when she was little, at least, and he had been the one that showed her how to draw a bow and ride 'properly.' Alanna hadn't touched a sidesaddle until she went to the convent, and still wished that ladies could ride astride without causing an instant scandal. Coram might be proud that she had taught herself how to fight with a sword, or to at least catch an unwitting opponent by surprise.

Alanna was still worrying when they reached her door. Coram didn't ask, but he did hug her when there was no one around to gossip and possibly do harm to his lady's reputation. "Your mother would be very proud of you, lass, and your father will be very pleased to know that you and Sir Myles are friends. Lord Alan only had good things to say about Sir Myles, said there aren't any other knights that understand their books properly."

Alanna hugged him back, feeling like she was ten all over again. Coram had been the one to raise her. Her father had taught her letters, and had been very pleased when Alanna could solve all of the logic puzzles that he found for her, but he had only seemed to pay attention to her when she was in the library, in his office, or making too much noise at the dining room table. Coram had showed her how to track animals in the woods, find her way without a map, keep her balance while ice-skating, and how to find the flowers that her mother liked best.

Coram kissed her forehead before rapping on the door and letting Maude start the fuss all over again, asking if Alanna was alright and if she should ask the servants to take subtle revenge against Delia. Any reserve against telling her friends drained as Maude efficiently stripped Alanna of everything but her shift and tucked her into bed. It wasn't at all usual for a lady to know how to fight, maybe, but Maude had taught Alanna a few quick spells that would help her defend herself. Knowing how to use a sword wasn't all that different, and would probably suit Maude's practical approach to solving problems.

She would be very sad to lose Maude, but someone had to look after her father. Maybe Alanna would ask for Coram's advice tomorrow, as well as Maude's. Alanna needed to find a maid, but she also needed to find someone that wouldn't mind the occasional behavior that wasn't at all typical or proper. She needed someone that wouldn't carry tales to interested parties, especially as Alanna spent more time with that circle of nobles and commoners that seemed to be running the palace. Most of all, Alanna could use more than just another ally in the palace's perpetual conflicts. She wanted a friend her own age.


	5. Chapter Four

_This chapter took quite a bit longer than intended. Many thanks to everyone that kept nudging me into remembering that this story needed work._

**Chapter Four**

Every Rogue in Corus had heard the news, and the more sociable had heard tell of it at least three times in a night. George had taken on another noble as a friend immune from all theft, and this one a lady. There was the usual amount of gossip, however improper when Lady Alanna was barely introduced and still deeply in mourning, but none of it was vicious. The girl might be a noble, but she was studying healing with Mistress Cooper, and Eleni Cooper had no long patience for fools and layabouts. Within two days of her rumored duel with Marek Swiftknife, the Court of the Rogue as a whole had decided to give the red-headed lady a chance to earn what respect a noble could hold. It went unsaid that no one would dare trying to lift a coin from her purse, when she was under George's explicit protection.

Most nobles never had the chance to be a friend to George, let alone after being in Corus for under a week, so perhaps it wasn't a surprise that Stefan kept an eye on the lady when she made her way through his stables. She kept to the center of the aisles, and kept herself away from the biting range of his stallions with the ease he often found in country nobles. The city nobility and the Book of Gold folk looked down on the remote little fiefs, but the proper city folk always had higher hopes for the rural sorts.

Lady Alanna of Trebond had asked directions twice as she made her way through the maze of stables, but there was nothing uncertain in her steps. She even had the sense to find her quarry at a glance, and Stefan couldn't fault any lady that would recognize her pony after six years without a single visit.

"Chubby!" Word had it that she was usually solemn, in the palace, but the smile brightened her eyes to a wholly unnatural shade of purple. The effect was even worse with the purple-eyed cat twining around her ankles, but Stefan had never been the best judge of that sort of thing. Duke Roger looked charming enough, but not one of the horses in the stables trusted that man. Lady Alanna looked odd, with purple lit by sunlight, but the pony nuzzled at the girl's shoulders and neck without nosing after a treat. She supplied one after several minutes of praising the pony, and that was more than enough to make up his mind.

George liked her, Mistress Cooper called her a gifted student, the horses liked her, and not one person besides Stefan himself had known the correct spot to rub on that pony's neck. Stefan was rather deliberate about climbing down the ladder, to keep from startling her, but he had the feeling she was the tough kind. Next time she'd have fewer issues with a man dropping from the loft above.

"Lady Alanna, I'd think?" Stefan bowed shortly, but for once didn't mind the courtesy. She dipped a shallow curtsy in return. There was no one else to see such a thing, perhaps, but it was no wonder she had a way with animals. Someone had taught her manners for meeting anyone, not just peers and betters.

"It seems that everyone knows my name, but I certainly don't know yours," she said, one hand still finger-combing the pony's mane.

"Stefan, milady. If you've a mind to buy your beast back, he certainly likes you well enough." By the look in her eyes, she hadn't realized that Chubby had spent the last three years belonging to the Crown. "Your brother's knightmaster bought the lad a proper horse, and the pony's a good'un. I kept him on so he'd not go out pulling carts somewhere. I've had a few of the nobles' children out on him, and of course milady is free to borrow any of the free Crown mounts at her leisure."

"He's always done better with children," Alanna said, absently brushing horse hair from the black sleeve of her dress. "I'd rather keep visiting, I think. From the look of him, he hasn't run across anyone to make him less tolerant, but he did let Thom ride all that time." Stefan wasn't sure if the lady realized the significance, setting Thom up as such a tribulation, but she fed the poor pony a sugar cube as she spoke. He rather thought it was only fair compensation for so much time with Squire Thom.

"Well, y'might like one of our mares, then. The stallions aren't worth bothering, and I've not had a good gelding this year. You could take one with a little spirit, and I save the docile horses for ladies that like holding reins proper, not running."

The purple looked far less off-putting when he was the direct recipient of a smile, and he could start to see that she'd be a striking woman. Not one of the conventional pretties, like that horror Delia and her heavy hand with the riding crop, but she put him to thinking about one of the warm-blooded little fillies from the Bazhir. "That would be wonderful," she replied, laughing when her pony lipped at her ear. Chubby was a good animal, and the lady knew that he wasn't the type to shift straight into a bite. "I've missed riding, even if I haven't the time for it today. I've been all around the palace trying to find him, and as long as I was in the stables I thought I'd come visit this handsome fellow."

Stefan glanced over to the practice yards unwillingly. "Squire Thom's out at the ring now, milady, and like to be there a time. His Grace set out an hour of exercises, and one of my boys is on hand to supervise." The lady looked pleased with the news, for worse luck, but he'd do his part. "I'll walk you over that way, if you like. It's a tricky few turns to get to the squires' practice yard."

The lady thanked him quite nicely, but through their entire talk of horses and convenient trails, Stefan couldn't help but think of what would come after. He might be ill at ease around most folk, but he liked Lady Alanna. She had a way with horses, which was quite enough to earn his attention, but she also had passed on the pretensions most of the grand ladies had in spades. He'd make sure George told her about the messenger pigeons up in the barn's loft, as he'd not mind playing errand-boy for the lady. She wouldn't ask such favors lightly.

He'd already composed the first letter before they reached the squires' practice ring. This talk wasn't going to go well, as Master Thom was an unholy terror with no compassion for anybody that didn't have something left to offer him. Stefan could at least be sure someone would look on after Alanna, with her current maid heading back to Trebond the very next morning.

"I'd expect you'll find your way back to Chubby, if y'like," Stefan suggested, just before they came in sight of Squire Thom. "He's a good'un when you've had a bad day, and there's not much wrong with a lady spending her time in the stables. If folk fuss at you, they know that some of th' knights like a lady what knows her horseflesh."

Alanna smiled, touched by the offer. "Thank you, Stefan." She had the feeling that the shy man wouldn't give an open invitation lightly, and knew that Myles would be pleased. Sir Myles had introduced Stefan's chief assistant at the second meeting of his little poetry society that never cracked a single volume of literature. Asan was a friendly man that didn't mind the palace, and he always came prepared with painstakingly neat notes describing Stefan's requests for the stables. Myles had told Alanna that befriending Stefan was the best that a body could do to have good help in the stables, though he had thought it would take weeks for Stefan to approach her. Myles had been very apologetic when saying that Thom might have left an impression, but Alanna couldn't decide just why Myles had been serious. Her brother might be strong-willed, and maybe he'd been a bit lazy when it came to his horsemanship before, but surely he'd have learned better while training to be a knight.

Alanna quickly realized just how wrong she had been. Thom was riding a beautiful dapple-grey gelding, but that was the best that could be said about the arrangement. Alanna could see at a glance that the gelding was only kept in check by the crop in Thom's hand, and she winced along with the stablehand when Thom slapped the crop along the side of the horse's neck. His posture was bad, leaving him unsteady, and there was no way that Thom would be able to work a weapon from horseback even if he was more impressive with a sword.

She stayed just a step inside the stables for the next half an hour, wondering just what had happened to her brother. He scowled after every correction from the patient stablehand, and didn't seem to notice that he'd worked the horse to frothing. Thom was still trying to work the horse to a gallop, but Alanna thought that was more to say that he could than to master any part of the necessary posture to stay solid through the very fast gait.

The fourth time her brother ignored the stablehand's suggestion to stop, Alanna walked up to the fence. "Brother!" she called, as if she hadn't been watching him for quite some time. "I heard that your lesson would be ending soon, if you'd care to have tea with me. Maude wanted to see you before she left." It was only a little lie. Maude was spending the entire afternoon in Coram's suite of rooms, and they planned to share an entire skin of wine while talking over the logistics of running a fief without Lady Marinie's assistance. Lord Alan did his best, but he could never be called an active participant in the financial matters. Such work would take him away from his research.

"If you insist, sister dear." The words were right, if they were taking cues from prior teasing, but the tone wasn't right at all. It really sounded as if Thom was humoring her, and not taking their first chance in years to talk. That feeling didn't change in the walk back to her rooms, after Thom pushed his gelding's reins into a stableboy's hands.

Alanna tried to ask about any friends, but of course there was no one but Roger. Alanna liked him no better from indirect conversations, when all mentions seemed to involve extremely complicated spells that weren't worth describing to Alanna, or some matter of policy she wouldn't understand. She might have written off that first conversation if Thom hadn't broached a topic of his own at the end.

"Father already sent over pocket money to last until Midwinter, and it's in my care. Here's your part of it," Thom said carelessly, pushing two silver nobles across the table. A maid-of-all-work would make more before Midwinter, and she couldn't buy a dress fit for a palace lady with twice that much.

"Just how much was yours, then?" Alanna asked, shocked that her own brother would try to gyp her. She and her father had talked in that week before she left, and Lord Alan had given her quite a bit of advice about how much a lady would need to spend to keep up a comfortable existence. It had been the first time either of them talked about her mother, and Alanna couldn't possibly have forgotten the particulars. Her father had told her all sorts of little stories she hadn't known before, like the time that her mother ripped out an entire layer of petticoats at a dance without anyone realizing. They'd only found out when a servant spotted the neat roll of fabric under her chair, and when the rest of the table marveled at such a neat line at the edge of the tear, Marinie had admitted that it was entirely too hot for fashion, so she'd adapted as she saw fit.

Thom hadn't stayed for any such stories, so maybe he didn't know that even a frugal lady of means would keep to a budget of six silver nobles per month. The most inexperienced lady's maid could expect one silver noble a month in expenses, and hosting parties and buying new dresses and having any kind of trip to the market took cash on hand.

"I've already bought the books that I need, Alanna, and what could you possibly need so much money for? You're living in the palace, and if you insist on wearing black a full year, it's not like you'll need any new clothes."

Her brother was entirely serious. Alanna was not going to yell about something like money, when she was comfortably warm and well-fed without any expense on her part, but she did have the strong urge to box her brother's ears. He couldn't have asked Coram or Maude about the best way to divide the money, when Alanna knew for a fact that their father would have sent ten gold crowns over from his creditor in Corus.

Alanna controlled herself, somehow, because she loved her brother. She knew that he could be impossible when he didn't stop to think about other people. "Next time, I will insist on speaking to Master Nethen myself," she warned. "Father and I had planned a different distribution, as you know. I should have had two fifths of that, even making allowances for your books."

"Fighting over money, sister?" He had the audacity to look disappointed in her, and maybe that was the last straw. He looked so sanctimonious, so self-righteous, that she didn't want to stop at boxing his ears. She didn't recognize anything in her twin's calm, dismissive expression, and that made her angriest. He looked like Roger, all cool grace and no speck of kindness that wasn't an exchange.

They were in her rooms, but he had far too much dignity to go rifling through her things in case she'd brought any extra pocket money with her. "No. I'm stating a fact, _brother_, because obviously you can't be bothered to start a discussion with me." Alanna was too angry to fight with him, and he already looked too smug for it to do any good. He'd never admit that he was wrong, or that he could be wrong, and that old arrogance that she'd kept in check through teasing and horseplay had reared into something beyond her control.

Alanna wasn't thinking as she walked away from her rooms, stride purposeful enough that even servants that she liked gave her a respectful distance. She'd usually ask Liore how her baby was doing, or check with Gilda about any meetings Sir Myles had called suddenly, but she didn't want to talk to anybody. She saw no sign of Stefan when she reached the stables, or any other human, but that suited her just fine. She let herself into Chubby's stall with no care for the hem of her dress, and she could apologize to the maid in charge of removing such stains later. Maude was leaving the next morning, and Alanna would need to fend for herself.

She wasn't sure just how much time passed, but Chubby didn't mind the company. He seemed to realize that she wasn't in the mood for much company, or maybe he'd had his fill of sugar cubes, but he didn't lip at her hands and he stayed obligingly near the wall and let her work the curry brush until the dusty old pony was gleaming as bright as a newly-washed yearling.

"In any sort of mood for two-legged company, m'lady?"

Alanna was startled enough to blurt the first thing that came to mind, which wasn't entirely flattering to her unexpected companion. "George? Why are you in the palace?"

He chuckled, not looking the least offended. "Stefan keeps doves up in the lofts, as many hobbyists will, but his fly straight t' me. He said that you planned a talk out with that brother of yours, and that it wouldn't go all that well."

"It went terribly, actually. It's like dealing with another Duke Roger." That was a risk, perhaps, but it was a very small risk. A self-proclaimed King of Thieves wouldn't tattle on her for disliking the king's brother.

"That'd put any body in a mood to deal with horses. Stefan said you'd want t' talk, but that your companion's headed home tomorrow." George said all of that quite calmly, for someone talking about affairs that definitely were no part of his business.

Alanna scowled at him. "I suppose you have spies all through the palace, to tell you such things. I don't like people looking into my business, George."

"Hazard of bein' interesting, my lady," he said, no hint of apology in the voice. Unlike Thom's complete lack of remorse, George's was almost charming. He was admitting what he'd been doing ahead of time, and it wasn't like he was trying to hurt her. "I'd be alone in stopping, if you catch my meaning. So far, you've had Sir Myles taking a close look, as you know, but there's also been attention from Duke Roger himself. You're the twin to one of the most Gifted students in all Tortall, and that draws his notice. If you play that your gift's just Healing, he's like to leave you alone without putting a few obstacles between you an' your magic."

"I'll keep that in mind. I still don't know why you're in the palace."

"We're friendly, now, and Stefan thought you could use a friendly pair of ears that aren't pointed." George rubbed Chubby's head for emphasis.

Alanna had come up with a plan somewhere during her long commune with Chubby, but it seemed the height of selfishness to ask. Still... she needed help, and didn't know if Myles would let her accept help on her own terms. "I could use a favor," Alanna admitted, studying one of the few remaining tangles in the pony's mane.

She didn't see the small changes in George's expression, turning friendly concern to a more neutral look several other nobles would recognize. His voice, however, was unchanged. "What'll it be, then?"

"If I asked Myles, he'd pay and that'd be the end of it, but that almost feels like losing. Thom has to know that I'll need to lean on someone, and I think that Duke Roger could have put him up to this stunt." It wasn't like Thom to be so selfish when it came to sharing with her, but Thom wouldn't have done it with some larger motive than books he really wanted. Alanna knew she should explain from the beginning, but she'd just found the start of an idea. "You already have people all over the palace, so maybe someone out of your Court would be interested in working for both of us. I need a maid."

George was visibly taken aback, and Alanna didn't understand. "You could have at least waited to know what I was going to ask," Alanna said, letting her hand slide down Chubby's shoulder. "Your spies might also have been able to say that I have two silvers to offer any interested party, and I know that it isn't much."

George shook his head, as if clearing something out of his ear. "You don't want your brother to have a talking-to?"

"I doubt that any of your men could talk sense into him," Alanna began, only belatedly understanding what he meant. "You thought I'd ask you to have sense _beaten _into him," she said flatly, reading the confirmation in George's eyes. "My own brother. I'm not like that, George." Alanna tried to push past him, and strongly considered kicking him when he caught one of her wrists in his hand.

"Forgive me. I misjudged you," he said, hand still curled around her wrist. Alanna could have stayed angry, she supposed, but those five words had more sincerity than most nobles would use in a week. "I heard that your keeper was leaving, but your talk with your twin's so fresh I hadn't heard word just yet. You've a good plan, and I know several girls that'd like to be a lady's maid. The palace will keep them cleaned up, fed, and rested in a proper bed." George slowly released her wrist, perhaps because she was going to hear him out. "If you're sincere in saying that the lady in question could keep on giving me hints about goings-on, then I'd insist on paying her a salary as well."

"Half and half?" Alanna suggested. Someone of his wealth could easily afford two silver for such information, after all. If he paid the girl more, then she'd be deserving it, and it wouldn't mark Alanna as a cheapskate. "Four silver nobles is enough money to spend until Midwinter, and I'm not going to be that time-consuming. My hair's not worth the fuss and I won't even be wearing colors for several months."

"You're a generous soul. Send word about when you'll be at my mother's for your next lessons in healing, and I'll have a few candidates come by for you to interview. I have someone in mind, but other girls might be interested."

From the way George was watching the corridors, it was time for the meeting to be over. "That would be wonderful. I have a lesson tomorrow night, if that isn't too soon."

"Not at all." George spent a moment staring at her, coming to some decision, before slinging an arm around her shoulders in a half-hug. "I am sorry I misunderstood so bad about your twin, lass. Anyone else in the castle, that's what they'd've wanted, but mayhap he just needed this kind of chance. He better use it well."

Alanna compared the cold-eyed squire to the absent-minded, hot-tempered brother she had known, and couldn't help wondering if Squire Thom would care about any opinion from his sister. "I hope he will, George. Safe journeys."

George laughed, squeezing her shoulders one more time. "Not too safe, or a thief'd be bored. My mum will send word when you're there, and we'll be along in time for your usual break."

He vanished in the time it took to latch Chubby's stall door behind them, but Alanna couldn't be angry about that. It only meant that he could avoid the Lord Provost just as well. She felt no more irritated on the long walk back to her rooms, even when she noticed that Thom had left his teacup set out so that a ring of tea would stain the bottom of the cup. George might have had the wrong idea, but it had been easy enough for them to come to an understanding. Why couldn't it be that easy to win her brother back?


	6. Chapter Five

_Thanks for your patience, everybody, and special thanks to everyone that reminded me that this story isn't anywhere close to finished. Real life knocked me for a loop this semester/year, but things are finally getting back on track. _

**Lioness Chapter Five**

The day before, Salma Aynnur had been much like any Lower City laundress struggling to find enough wages to keep her tiny apartment without relying overmuch on offered help from the Rogue. She hadn't met the man herself, which had led to a great skepticism about any man promising to help her pay rent for nothing more than a promise to not aid the Palace Guard against him. That all sounded well enough, but Salma had met quite a few young noblemen during her stint as a palace laundress, and she knew how easy the strings of promises and "just a little in return" could start to build into an obligation she could never repay.

On the last morning of her old life, she had woken a half-bell before sunrise wearing almost every stitch of clothing she owned, one right over the other. It was only autumn, but a cold snap had left her very much wanting for coal or firewood. She had noticed several neighbors drawing more than they should be able to afford from the cart, but that was for people that believed some so-called King of the Rogue would provide for them in exchange for nothing more than a little trust. He was the King of Thieves, after all, even if he had adopted nearly the entirety of the honest Lower City folks along with the crooked.

She had tied on her apron (always hung neatly on a peg near the door, because three years in the palace's great laundry rooms left her feeling uneasy without a pristine, unwrinkled white apron), and had smoothed her hands over several nearly-invisible bits of patching that were all too obvious to her trained eye. By necessity, laundresses were also seamstresses, though they did nothing so glamorous as make gowns from whole cloth. Instead, they mended the small tears and loose buttons on the gowns of the great ladies while wearing linen gloves to keep their rough hands from the fabric itself. Her clothes were just as tidily and thriftily mended, and it was with regret that several layers were folded into the trunk at the foot of her bed. Aside from the trunk and bed, the rest of her room was devoted to laundry, and the great tub that had taken most of her savings between its purchase and the young men to help her move it up into the room.

The morning had started readily enough, with her favorite clients appearing promptly at the tenth bell with coin in hand. Several of them paid less than the going rate for such work, but Salma knew all too well how hard it could be to keep one's head above water when the only other choice was the poorhouse or the Rogue. No new orders had come in, probably due to the sudden cold that kept people inside without the most vital errands, so she was left to work at making a dress for herself from scrap fabric and educated guesswork until her luncheon, which was the same as her breakfast. It was just porridge, warmed again on the fire, but for lunch she had savory spices to mix into it. She sometimes had sugar for breakfast, but only when times were very rich, as the summer had been. When folk stopped sweating, and started tightening their belts for the winter, the laundresses did the same.

If Salma could find the trick of creating serviceable clothing from the ragman's gleanings, she might be comfortable through the winter, with enough coal to please the Rogue himself. Unfortunately, when luncheon was passed and she took to her needle again, she found that she had again knotted two pieces of fabric together. She was a fast study at repairing someone else's work, but never was going to be one of those to create new.

At the second bell, when she was beginning to think that she had been a fool to try her luck in Corus after being dismissed from the palace's laundry, she had a knock on the door. Salma straightened her apron and patted her hair through force of habit, as the chief laundress had been a stickler for appearances, before opening the door to find someone far above the income of her usual clients.

The lady (she surely had to be a lady, for all that she wasn't noble-born) had warm hazel eyes and silver streaks in her chestnut hair. Salma liked her better for letting the silver show at the temples with no attempts to comb it beneath the rest or dye it into nothing. Salma automatically bobbed a curtsy and invited the woman to take her typical seat, leaving Salma where her clients could perch if they had a mind to stay and chat. She didn't have anything better to offer than very watery tea, but the lady accepted as graciously as if it were Saren Goldleaf.

"It seems very rude to begin a conversation stating that I know of you, Miss Aynnur, but I fear that my son and his friends have been a terrible influence," her guest began, after producing a neat cloth bag of sugar cubes. Salma had taken two, at first, but when the lady took four in her tea, she dared to take a third. So much sweetness was nearly foreign, but she wasn't one to turn away from a good thing.

"I'm flattered that you know my name, as it happens. It is very helpful for one's work as a laundress."

"It is just so for work as a healer. I am Eleni Cooper, of no particular title or lineage, but perhaps it is of note that I worked in the Temple of the Goddess until some quirk of fate left me with child from a onetime indiscretion. My particular temple sect was devoted to the Maiden, so they threw me several very nice receptions and scraped together enough that I wasn't thrown out on my ear."

Salma wasn't sure what she was meant to think, given the confession of such a scandal, but perhaps the point was that Salma's own past wasn't quite so bad, even if Mistress Cooper knew of such minor things. Most importantly, Mistress Cooper had tended to the Goddess. No one would dare lie in her name, and any woman cast away in shame nearly always spent her entire life atoning. The Goddess did not forgive deception or betrayal, making her the frequent patron for those hurt by men.

When Salma said nothing, Mistress Cooper continued. "I have taken a student, recently, who does happen to be ennobled but with no surplus of petty cash. A maid is very necessary, at the palace, but she doesn't require the typical lady's maid that would like to be ostentatious in the reflection of glory. She is rather shy, as it happens, and beyond room and board can only offer four silver nobles until Midwinter."

Four silver nobles was what Salma might see in a year, given that all of her bills were paid in coppers and promises. Still, she held her tongue, waiting for what catch would come.

Mistress Cooper's smile made her feel that she'd passed some test. "I am seeking a candidate for her approval. I will, of course, be prepared to offer a silver noble myself for your trouble in closing shop and coming to my home. You have my word by the Goddess that this is no trick or trap, and that I will not have you come to harm."

"I don't understand why you would choose me for such a posting, mistress," Salma said finally, curious enough to be direct. "I've no experience with usual maidwork, besides mending, and I'm sure you can judge by my hair that I'm no fast hand with styling." Her always-frizzy brown hair had always annoyed the chief laundress, and had been even worse in the dense fog of the rinserooms. Most of the boys had teased her, except the clerk that hadn't had any eyes for her hair. That clerk had probably never noticed that her eyes were dark brown.

"You've worked in the palace before, Miss Aynnur, and you also have several traits that my lady would admire greatly. You are very independent, self-sufficient, and practical. You also have just the kind of common sense that I would require in a maid for my lady," Eleni said bluntly. "In the interest of full disclosure, I'll say that my son is the Rogue. He has an eye on all new folk to move into the area, and he's been quite interested in someone that prefers to stand on her own two feet when he's happy to offer a hand to anyone that needs it."

She couldn't understand how _this_ woman could have borne the Rogue, but she had heard about beautiful hazel eyes from the girl two floors down, who had a rather hopeless crush on the king of thieves. Rill was a very pretty pickpocket, as it happened, but had promised it wasn't done to steal from neighbors. Salma thought that it was fair foolish to have a crush on a man that Rill hadn't been brave enough to speak with, but she still had Rill bringing by a few bits of laundry once a week, with the girl staying after at least an hour to chatter. Listening to chatter was always part of being a maid, as it happened, even with the quieter girls.

Salma considered for several seconds, and felt a little better when Mistress Cooper gave that time and went back to sipping the tea-flavored sugarwater. "I would like to meet her, I think," she said, feeling as if there wouldn't be a way back to her simple little life mostly spent alone with her laundry and her needle. Salma wasn't the superstitious type, and felt fair uncomfortable in any part of the Temple district, but she always lit a candle for the Goddess when she could afford wax over tallow. She knew that there were some people the Goddess herself had a hand on, and that Eleni Cooper may well be one of them; the small hairs on the back of her neck were prickling, as if someone beside Mistress Cooper were watching.

Mistress Cooper looked quite certain, and every bit of her flattery had rung true to Salma's ears. Salma Aynnur wouldn't be bought or sold by empty words, but she would listen to honesty. "If I take the posting, would someone be able to collect my trunk? It's all that I have worth carrying on, and I imagine that someone else would pay a bit more to come to rooms already set up for laundering with clients coming by."

Mistress Cooper smiled, and even helped wash the two teacups before Salma tucked them carefully into her trunk.

Salma wore her apron for good luck, with her sewing kit tucked into the pocket and her threadbare quilted jacket over her favorite everyday dress. She was relieved and surprised to not find a carriage available, and too sensible to refuse Mistress Cooper's offer of a snack in the marketplace. Cinnamon-raisin buns were a luxury, and it took her nearly the whole of the walk to savor two of the three Mistress Cooper (who Salma might eventually call Eleni, as the lady had requested the informality) had purchased from a baker. The baker had nodded very respectfully to Mistress Cooper, and had presented her cinnamon-raisin bun with an extra flourish.

Salma thought that the fuss was for the Rogue, more than it was for Mistress Cooper, but it had been gracious all the same.

The rest of the day had been just as strange. Mistress Cooper had found several old dresses of hers that would fit Salma very nicely, with the seams taken in a touch, and Salma had accepted them before she realized that the cloth was finer than anything she'd hoped to own. From there, it had been easy enough to accept the subterfuge that she had worked as Mistress Cooper's maid, even if it had been for half an afternoon, to give Lady Alanna more importance as someone who hired a proper maid, over someone who hired a laundress.

Eleni had been very kind in explaining just what it was that a fine lady's maid did, when not screaming at the laundress or telling the chief laundress that the frizzy-haired nuisance had been shirking her duties (she hadn't) to flirt with the clerk (he wouldn't have wasted time in flirting, not when he was stronger.) Salma had been foolish enough to tell the chief laundress the truth, instead of sobbing and promising to work a month without wages, so she had been turned out on her ear and the clerk hadn't even been reprimanded. Being a laundress had meant entire days of hard work with the chief laundress always wanting more speed and more stains taken away at the first washing.

As it happened, a proper lady's maid would help her lady in and out of the various court outfits, make sure that bathwater was ready, help with hair and jewelry, run errands, and generally do all the things that the court lilies couldn't be expected to handle. It was a boon to be able to mend things, as well as to do quick laundry the lady would prefer to keep private, such as the rags for monthlies. Salma thought it all sounded much easier than freezing in a garret, especially since fall had been miserable and winter would be worse, and could bear the most obnoxious lady for the promise of her own room that backed against a hearth, and time to herself no matter how overbearing the lady.

Salma was ready for the scheduled interview at seven, even after an hour to fret by herself. Mistress Cooper had gone to the palace to chaperone Lady Alanna, and should have been back quite a bit before seven. Instead, at five minutes past the seventh bell, a hazel-eyed man with a very large nose let himself in the front door without so much as a rap on the wood. He was dressed in very expensive cloth, however rough the cut, and she knew well enough when a seam had been altered. She'd bet her best needles that he had knives beneath those clothes, and his ease in the house let her guess just who she was about to meet.

She was surprised when he nodded his head politely, as if she were some kind of equal, and startled enough to nod back as if she wanted something to do with a rogue. She'd met enough rogues, and one of them had cost her a very comfortable existence at the palace laundry. She hadn't gotten on well with the other girls, perhaps, but it had been nice enough.

"So you'll be the famous Miss Aynnur," he said, because she wouldn't have started that conversation for a gold noble. "Infamous, perhaps, as it's rare for my boys t'see you at all. I'm not here on any sort of official business, mind, but my mother wanted to pass on a message. She and the lady are goin' to be late. There was a bit of a scuffle in the stables, and no healer can resist patching up some foolish children caught up in the middle of a mess not of their makin'."

"What happened?" Salma asked, the words nearly involuntary.

"Two fools what call themselves squires argued in th' stables. Ralon of Malven, and Thom of Trebond, as it happens, and Thom's the lady's twin brother. Ralon's nuisance enough that Thom lashed out with his Gift, throwing several horses into a startle. The spooked ponies knocked a few pages into walls." The Rogue read her expression very well, for someone that had never known her before. "They'll all be fine. My mother's always been good at her work, and it happens that Lady Alanna's a natural healer. She's a good lass, as good as that twin of hers is rotten."

Maybe it was his easy manner, but she already felt at ease enough to be impertinent in a way that would have driven the chief laundress into a fury. "You're a very strange man, sir."

He actually laughed, and it was the kind that meant he'd not at all taken offense. "You'll not be the first to say so, and I wager you'll not be the last. It's George, anyway, the only folk that call me anything grand usually plan to pester me later if they're not outright after th' throne."

"I don't think I actually believed all those things I heard until yesterday morning, or I might have taken a little help," she admitted, feeling almost bad for all the offers she'd spurned. "I could have done with a bit of coal, but without knowing you, I thought there'd be more conditions."

"There's always room for a bargain, if you like, but you seem the straightforward type. I'd a mind to ask someone into the palace who'd report to me about goings-on, but my mother wouldn't hear of it. She said Alanna needed someone sensible that was good at listening and practical enough to sort out problems without nannying, and from all I've heard you'll do very well."

George was just as blunt as his mother, and Salma liked him despite all of her long-held reservations. "Thank you, George." He did seem much more like a real person than some self-titled king. "I feel that all parties but the lady are already agreed, but that'll be the point of the interview. I'm not all that qualified in the traditional sense, but your mother did say that the lady's guardsman had helped the woman acting as Lady Alanna's maid."

"That'll do well, then. Coram will approve of anyone helping his lady, excepting me, but he likes my mother well enough." George turned to the window. She didn't hear anything of interest, but he smiled and nudged a kettle of water onto the fire. Almost a full minute later, she heard the clatter of horsehoofs on cobblestone.

Salma wondered if it was bloodthirstiness that kept him in the kingship for so long, but perhaps he was as supernaturally sensitive as the tales said. "How did you hear them?"

"Saw them, as it happens. Between my mother's and the lady's hair, I can see them from a half mile back- there we are, the stablehand of my mother's is right on time, for once," he continued before she could protest that no one could pick two people from a crowd at half a mile, distinctive hair or not. "You ready, Salma? The lady might be in a temper, but it's nought t' do with you. Her own brother caused the mess that hurt those pages."

"I worked for the palace's chief laundress, George. I don't expect she's bitter enough for that manner of temper."

"Fair enough, Salma, more than fair enough." George might have said something else along the lines of encouragement, but the kitchen door had already opened to reveal a pale redheaded woman with straw all through her hair, followed by Eleni Cooper. Eleni looked just as calm as she had that morning, even with her lilac gown liberally streaked with straw and horse leavings.

"I'll just be a minute to change, and to find something that may work for Lady Alanna," Eleni said, gently guiding Alanna into a chair. "Good, George, the hot water will do us all some good. Load her tea with all the honey that'll take, and never mind that it'll look like syrup."

Salma would have introduced herself first, but the lady looked far too tired for names. She took up the comb that had been left near the doorway instead, and drew herself up with all the no-nonsense dignity she'd always admired in the palace maids. "I'll be seeing to your hair," she said, pleased when there was no argument. The lady did look all too pale, even considering what her normal complexion would be.

Between her work and George's quiet encouragement, the lady looked much closer to human by the time Eleni emerged with a clean face, cleaner hair, and a black gown draped over her shoulder. "I threw a baste stitch into the hem, but it still might drag a bit," Eleni admitted. "I'll get that fixed before we send you back, and I'll get the dress clean for you."

"Thank you, Eleni," Alanna said, her voice raspy despite two cups of sweetened tea. "I suppose I should have been more careful with that last healing, but I wanted that bone healed in time for the poor lad to get back to his work. Mindelan is one of Myles' favorites."

"Anders is a sweet boy," Eleni replied, nodding Salma toward a seat at the table. "We've missed introductions, I believe, but I think the two of you will suit quite well. Lady Alanna, I would like you to meet Salma Aynnur. She isn't experienced in the traditional way, but I took the liberty of guessing you'd rather have someone immensely worthy of trust."

Salma was blushing by the time that Eleni continued. "Miss Aynnur, I would like to introduce Lady Alanna. She's a very powerful healer, and clever enough to loathe Duke Roger."

Alanna's eyes widened at that little piece of information, and her quick gaze to Eleni was all too sharp. Eleni's smile was mild, however, leaving the two of them to shake hands. Salma hadn't expected that sort of hello, but it did lead her to think well of her presumptive employer. Duke Roger's clerk had been the one to put out those rumors about her, and to have her removed from the palace. Duke Roger had never contradicted the man's outright lies.

"If Mistress Cooper approves, I can't imagine why I wouldn't. I would be honored if you would accept my offer, Miss Aynnur."

"I'd be a fool not to accept, my lady, and my mother didn't raise any fools." Salma thought that she'd like the posting, besides, but that was a thought for another day.

With that settled, Eleni took over. She drew a bath for Alanna, set out the new black dress, and had her stableman agree to walk Salma to her place with the hand-cart to fetch her belongings. The stableman would install Salma in the small room off of Lady Alanna's, and George and Eleni would walk Alanna back to the palace.

Alanna only felt mostly human again when Eleni had bustled her into the borrowed black dress. It fit very nicely, to Alanna's visible surprise. It was very hard to hide emotions in general, but a rather hopeless endeavor when she felt so tired.

"I used to cut quite the figure, you know," Eleni teased, working quickly with the row of buttons going up the entire back. "George's father certainly thought so, but I shouldn't wonder that my boy took after the charming Master Cooper that coaxed me away from my vows. For all that, though, George is more honest than his father ever was."

"It's not that, honestly," Alanna said, smoothing her newly-cleaned hands over the thick, practical skirt. "I'm just short enough that most clothing never fits properly."

"I think you're keeping this dress, dear, and next time we can try to have you in something like this before we need a healing. You did wonderfully with those boys, and I suspect that young Anders will have a crush on you by the time he wakes up tomorrow." Eleni laughed, seeing Alanna surprised for the second time in just a minute. "Oh, Alanna, you entirely underestimate your appeal. You remembered that boy's name, you healed him, and you let him keep his pride."

"I definitely could do worse for a first boy to take real interest." He was a very sweet boy, for all that he was already taller than she was. Duke Baird had told her that the height mostly came from the boy's mother. Baird had been in a far library, and had been extremely pleased to see most of the immediate needs already mended. He had more than enough Gift to satisfy the smaller of the injuries.

"Like Ralon of Malven, say, but there's one advantage of your brother's reputation. Ralon will have nothing to do with you, with you as a known favorite of Sir Myles." Eleni's words were blunt, and too practical to be hurtful. She was the first person besides George, Myles, and Coram to openly talk about her relationship with her brother, and Alanna didn't mind it from any of them.

Alanna blushed slightly at just how widely known it was that Myles liked her. He was hardly one to be shy, and he'd told all parties likely to enjoy the story about the time she disarmed a trained cutthroat to save him, but it seemed that everyone cared. She half-expected people to talk of some impending nuptials, not that Myles seemed to be pushing for such a happening. Still, it had been obvious enough that her father wrote her an approving letter about her friendship with Sir Myles. Her father was actually coming to Court, for once, to present several of his researches at the university in her mother's honor. Marinie had always helped him with the larger projects, and she had been very clear that knowledge wasn't meant to be hidden away in dark rooms.

She still wasn't ready to think about her mother, however, so she let that thought be. "I don't know what happened to Thom." Alanna distracted herself with the last few bits of straw rubbing at her neck. "He never cared as much about other people as he did about his Gift, but there was always room for me. It's like Duke Roger hasn't left any space."

"That may be an advantage," George said from the doorway. "Miss Aynnur's on her way, mother, and it can only be for the good that she gets a minute to settle in. With luck, she could even distract Coram."

"George!" Eleni scolded. "The lady might have been changing, still."

"Not with you fussing at the combs." George nodded to the ivory combs on the set of drawers that Eleni had been idly cleaning. "I could hear those three rooms away and a floor down."

Alanna smiled, and somehow wasn't surprised that she wasn't upset with him. It was just his style, after all, and it wasn't as if he'd tried to sneak a look. "It's alright, Eleni. I'd hardly ask him to act like a gentleman. Aside from Duke Baird, Sir Myles, and Anders of Mindelan, I've not been much impressed with the entire group."

"And you have all of a commoner's sense, so here we are," George said, grinning. "Well, mother? Shall we walk the lady back to the palace before she decides she'd rather bunk up with you?"

Feeling daring from a night of healing wounds (and well enough that Duke Baird had approved!), and from hiring a very satisfactory maid, Alanna took George's arm. "Yes, thank you," she said in the most supercilious tone she could manage. It lasted for all of three words, but felt so foreign that she stopped. "If I get any more sensible, I won't fit in at all when it comes to palace affairs."

They talked in that vein the entire way to the palace, with Eleni laughing at George's more outrageous stories about what Alanna would be able to do as a member of _his _court, compared to King Roald's. She admitted that his sounded more interesting just before they parted ways, and just in time for Coram to scowl at George. (George would readily admit that he liked the game of tweaking Coram and pretending to back down at glares, but Coram wasn't ready to say he liked teasing the thief yet. Alanna would give her favorite guardsman all the time he needed.)

Maybe Thom had turned selfish, in her absence, but until he saw the light she'd just do as she'd always done when he was in one of his moods. She'd clean up after him, mend the mistakes, and wait until he realized that his sister's approval meant something.


	7. Chapter Six

_This chapter is shorter, but it does have the advantage of coming to you much faster. It also has several moments that many of you have been wanting to find. Thanks for keeping me involved in the story, reviewers.  
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**Lioness Chapter Six **

Just four days later, Alanna knew why every woman of means would hire a maid. Salma seemed to know everything about palace life even before Myles did, and Salma knew how to navigate all the smaller hurdles of a large palace that had evaded Alanna and Maude. Salma had hot water waiting the moment Alanna thought she'd like a bath, and knew how to arrange Alanna's fire-red hair into something elegant without any hint of fuss. Salma also seemed pleased with the arrangement, from the way that she was gaining confidence and smiling as she bustled Alanna into slightly adapted dresses.

For all that Salma insisted she was no dressmaker, she had sewn small alterations into nearly every stitch of clothing Alanna owned to better the fit. By the time Alanna was efficiently dressed and coiffed for her second grand ball, she was already promising herself that she'd give Salma a raise as soon as it became possible.

The ball should have been astounding, but after a wonderful dinner with Cythera, Muirne, and Raoul as her tablemates, Raoul had escorted Cythera to the floor. Muirne had gravitated in Harailt of Ali's direction yet again, leaving Alanna on her own when Duke Roger approached.

Alanna curtsied, keeping her manners firmly in mind. "Good evening, your grace."

Roger inclined his head. "Lady Alanna, would you favor me with a dance?"

There was only one answer, unless she wanted to cause a scene and draw entirely too much attention. She swore that she could feel Myles' eyes on her when she held out her hand. "I would be honored, your grace."

Whatever Myles had said and Eleni had confirmed about the duke, he was an excellent dancer. Alanna wasn't terrible, by any means, but she would never have appeared so graceful without such a partner. Roger had a way of altering his own footwork to let her have a better line for a spin, and of stabilizing her for the trickier parts of the dance without making it at all obvious.

That wasn't enough for her to like the man that had stolen her brother from her, but at least she could begin to understand why so many people had fallen under Roger's thrall.

"You are a far better dancer than your brother, my lady. I fear that Thom does not yet understand the importance of dancing," Roger said.

He wasn't out of breath despite the fast tempo of the dance, and she refused to show any weakness. Her gift strengthened her very subtly, but his eyes narrowed slightly. He could see magic, then, as Eleni had thought. "Thom never had much use for things that didn't involve magic, your grace." Once, he'd spared a thought for her, but Alanna would keep that closer to her. She might need that detail later. "Truthfully, I'm amazed that you have convinced him to keep up his swordwork so well. Sir Raoul much admired Thom's swordsmanship."

"Goldenlake is a fine young man," Roger said mildly. Too mildly. "He would be a good match for you, Lady Alanna."

Her own eyes narrowed. It seemed that Roger wouldn't waste their time with small talk about the weather and the latest fashions. "I will be sure to consider Sir Raoul as a match, of course, but it wouldn't do to make a decision so fast. Most of the young knights are still out in the field, as I recall, and Sirs Raoul and Gareth are exceptions in light of Sir Gareth the Elder's untimely death."

Roger smiled at her, and for all the menace lurking behind the expression, she appreciated the measure of respect. "It was a great tragedy," he replied smoothly. "One part of that loss will be mended tonight, however. His majesty will announce tonight that I will replace the late duke as training master for the knights-to-be. I would welcome your advice for tutoring the pages on healing."

"I am a novice, your grace." Despite herself, Alanna relished the chance to talk to the duke so boldly. She didn't like him, and she didn't have to pretend. Duke Roger was above make-believe, at least, even in the light of Myles' strong belief that Roger had been the one to kill Prince Jonathan. "I would consult Duke Baird well before drawing down the list to find my name."

"Baird is talented in small things, Lady Alanna. I believe that you would be more… versatile. You have many chances to make decisions, and as you said, there is no need to decide marriages or alliances on a whim." The weight of his words rested slightly too long on 'marriage,' and the glimmer in his eyes proved it was intentional.

She remembered the whispered rumor Muirne had shared, care of Harailt. Within the university, the strong mages that were not friends of Roger often found flaws in their largest workings that they had not put in place. Some of those flaws were even fatal. If a mage would not join with him, Roger would be sure they could join no one else. Rumor attributed the source of such an attitude to Roger's close relationship to Ozorne, the heir apparent of Carthak.

"I would never decide such things idly." Alanna's words were touched through with sweetness, even as her expression promised mischief. "I will consider all evidence."

Roger chuckled, bringing their dancing to a stop at the edge of the floor. "I would expect nothing less from Thom's sister, my lady. Thank you for the dance."

"It was certainly interesting," Alanna returned diplomatically, even as she caught a glimpse of a small mountain in green and gold coming to her rescue. "If you will excuse me, your grace, I believe Sir Raoul promised me a dance as well."

He made a half-bow of farewell before leaving, and he cut past Lady Delia without a glance. Alanna watched him until he approached the lady of Cavall.

Raoul was smiling crookedly when she finally looked to her very large friend. "You sure know how to pick them, Alanna. He's the most dangerous man in Corus."

Alanna wondered how on earth Myles had missed the chance to pull Raoul into his fold, but perhaps Myles was leaving that to her. He never did seem to have only one plan. "He chose me, actually, and for the hardest song of the night. I'll dance something easier with you, if you like."

"You can't just go and make this practical," Raoul griped good-naturedly, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. "You'll spoil me before I get back to the rest of the marriage-obsessed harpies." He blanched, suddenly, nearly touching his chin to his chest to study her. "You… um…"

"I'm not obsessed with marriage," Alanna assured him. "Not that you aren't very nice, but I don't want to be married at least a year yet. Besides, it's not done to court a woman in mourning."

"That won't stop the gossip."

Alanna held tight to his arm before he could pull away. "There are far worse things to gossip about than the potential that we're both interested. Since neither of us particularly wants to go courting, it would suit us very well to make a show of the honorable thing and dance at a few parties. I get left alone since I found myself such a nice, titled man, and you can console wounded parties with my Book of Gold pedigree. The gossips are happy, we're happy, and we might as well dance."

Both of Raoul's eyebrows had risen steadily during her talk. "You are the most practical-minded woman I've ever met, you know that? No wonder Myles likes you."

Somehow, that drove Alanna to blushing. She hadn't realized their friendship would be so famous.

Raoul's big hand settled at her side. "Well, now I've done it—the whole court says it's friendship, Alanna. They're rude enough about Myles to assume no better."

"It's not that he isn't very nice, but he's old enough to be my father." They would take turns at being embarrassed, it seemed, but Alanna still preferred Raoul's company. He was very gentle, for all that he seemed as large as three of her together would be, and if she didn't look as graceful in his arms, she was drawing more looks as the gossips began to speculate.

After another dance, she was tired and he looked ready to hide behind the wall hangings. "You've done your duty," Alanna whispered. "Go find Sir Gary, if you like. He probably stole away to the library, again, and you'd like that better than a ball."

Raoul looked very much as if he could have kissed her. "Goddess bless you," he said with feeling, not noticing that Alanna's hand flew to her choker on instinct. Raoul disappeared, instead, moving very swiftly for a man of his bulk until he was out the door and gone.

She made her way back to her table, where Myles was holding court with a large serving of liquor. Feeling daring from her night, she plucked the glass from his hand and set it farther down the table. "You know that you drink too much, Myles, and you've already said you want to cut back. Eleni said that if you cut back half a drink a day, and only make one new cut a week, you shouldn't even feel too much badness."

"Would this be Mistress Cooper?"

"She's wonderful, Myles," Alanna said. Myles had changed the topic, but he hadn't disagreed. "I should introduce you. She can help me nag at you about drinking less alcohol and eating more vegetables."

"Hmph. No respect at all." Myles' feigned outrage was not very convincing. "Just for that, I shouldn't tell you that your lord father is expected in two days. He didn't want you surprised badly, but did want to surprise Thom. I violated your privacy horribly and told Lord Alan about just what Thom has been doing."

"Myles!" She blushed, again, but at least half of the embarrassment was that Myles had known.

"I'll apologize later, but do have a few remedies in mind. For tonight, I have been asked to stealthily and subtly coax you into accepting an early Midwinter present from George, for all that there's six weeks yet to the usual present-taking."

Alanna smiled, recognizing Myles' favorite approach to persuasion—honesty. "Is it stolen?" she asked dryly.

"He said you'd say that. He also said that he has an official bill of sale, if you'd like, because he paid for your present six years ago and had yet to find the right recipient. If you'd like an excuse to leave the ball early, you can go check on Chubby. He's doing very well under Stefan's care, but he stepped into a gopher-hole this morning and strained himself rather badly."

"I'll only go if you leave the glass over there," Alanna bargained. "I'm worried about you, Myles. When you let me scan you for sickness yesterday—"

"My entire upper abdomen lit up, I know, but it's a little too late to fix anything."

"Never. If you would ease back on the drinking, you could stop getting so many attacks of the stomach pains that you must have been getting. The little organ in the back is responsible for those, and I've seen a better pancreas in someone that lives full-time in the Dove."

"Just when were you in the Dancing Dove?" Myles asked, abruptly sitting upright after his easy slouch.

"I see patients in the city clinics, Myles, and Eleni recognized him. You might, too, if you knew Marek. All he called himself was Scholar."

"Scholar's six years older than I am," Myles said, quietly, and it seemed that he was talking to himself. She waited, and he continued two minutes later. "Fine. That drink stays away, and I won't have another today. George did ask me to be persuasive."

"Thank you, Myles." She leaned close enough to hug him. Some things were entirely too important to let propriety interfere. "Now I'll go sneak off to check on Chubby. I'm guessing someone will stop me along the way?"

"The man himself, I understand."

Somehow, Alanna didn't count herself surprised. George didn't like leaving work to intermediaries when he could do it himself. "The latest meeting is two hours before the supper bell again?"

"Of course, Alanna."

"Ask Raoul of Goldenlake. He took it on himself to save me from Roger, and he might pull Gary the right way," she murmured, taking care that no one would be able to read her lips.

Myles' expression lightened, and he looked animated despite the lack of alcohol in front of him. "Really! I'd wondered how to bring that generation in, but he'll do very well. Off with you now, let an old man have a few minutes to contemplate."

All through Alanna's walk to the stables, she somehow had not considered that her gift from George would, in fact, be a horse.

The instant she saw the mare, however, she couldn't imagine any kind of protest when she knew that the animal hadn't been stolen. "Oh, George, she's beautiful!" she burst out quietly, letting the palamino mare take her scent.

"We've been calling her Moonlight the last six years or so. She was my mother's usual mount, but with th' way she's been too busy to ride, she'd thought of sellin' her. Last night, mother had a dream with you riding Moonlight here. She decided right away that th' horse was coming to you."

She should at least quibble about such an expensive gift, but the horse had already nudged her delicately-boned head against Alanna's shoulder. "She's perfect," Alanna decided quietly. "Thank you, George. I won't mind missing the rest of that ball. I need more time to think."

"Myles give you somethin' t'chew on?"

"It was Roger, actually." Alanna blinked with surprise when George stiffened. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that he wasn't actually all-knowing. "I just talked to him at the ball. Thom wasn't attending in favor of some great magical working, but Roger danced with me."

"Your next lesson's tomorrow. We're talking about this," George ordered.

He looked spooked enough that Alanna didn't fight the command, even to say that of course she would have told George and Eleni. "Every detail," she promised instead. "As much as I'd like to talk about it now…"

George nodded, still stiff from some greater shock.

She didn't know why just a conversation could be so threatening, but she would ask tomorrow. "I'll get back before Salma starts fussing, and ride Moonlight here over to your mother's tomorrow. I'll even ask for Coram to come along, he likes your mother and might as well hear what you have to say."

"Goddess keep you, lass, with Roger showin' interest. You're too strong a mage for it t'make any of us that cares pleased," George said after several moments.

She'd already left propriety far behind, and he wasn't the type to mind the transfer of fine blond hairs from Moonlight to his dark jacket. She hugged him, but it was different than hugging Myles. George was standing, for one, but he also had quite a bit of muscle compared to the rather sedentary Myles. He also hugged _back, _as hard as if he thought she'd disappear in the next moment.

"Roger's that bad?" she whispered into the night, her head resting on George's shoulder.

For nearly a full minute, the only reply was his arms tightening around her protectively. "Worse."


	8. Chapter Seven

_Here's a chapter in time for Christmas.  
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**Lady Lioness: Chapter Seven**

Raoul fit into Myles' small group as if he had been there from the beginning. He sat near Alanna, and the two of them had a quiet side conversation about just what else Roger had done during Raoul's time at the palace while the group discussed bandage shortages in the medical wards and the chances of changing regulations in the stables. Alanna wasn't surprised that several nobles suspected Duke Roger in Prince Jonathan's death, but did need to hold Raoul's hand very tightly when he told her about losing Jon in halting words. Jon might have been headstrong and a bit thick about people sometimes, to hear Raoul tell it, but he had been a devoted friend and champion of anyone that fell under his protection. That protection had extended to the lowest-ranked maids in the palace, and the people had loved him in a way that King Roald would never see.

Later, Raoul had several useful suggestions for Myles. Proclamation or not, Duke Roger had yet to begin the actual work of acting as the page's training master, so Myles was left with the work and none of the benefits or resources. Raoul promised to take several of the first-years in hand for the basics of chivalry and a knight's duties, effectively taking on the role of Myles' assistant, and was moderately sure that he could "drag Gary along to make him stop moping about the library," as he put it.

Raoul was one of the first to leave, as he also dragged Gary to most meals, but the group as a whole was happy to announce their hopes to see him again. Alanna wasn't surprised. Raoul had been a very easy man to introduce to the crowd of upper servants and the more practically-minded nobles. It seemed that the big knight was popular with everyone, not just red-headed ladies that could use the rumor that she was not to be courted. Raoul was polite to the servants, wonderful with his big warhorse, and mostly immune to the pettiness of other nobles. It was no great surprise that Raoul was a popular addition.

Alanna had stayed after the meeting again, to talk to Myles about the strange buzz moving through the court. Myles explained everything very succinctly.

"Ozorne was crowned Emperor of Carthak while a red star blazed overhead. No one is entirely sure if it's a portent, but it seem safe enough to say that any man of that sort, let alone a man of his ilk with a public friendship for our smiling duke, will be any kind of good for Tortall."

Alanna shook her head reflexively, and couldn't distract herself even with the bouncing curls that Salma had somehow created with only a warm iron bar and patience. "I'll trust your judgment and learn everything I can about Carthak tomorrow, then."

"You might learn more tonight, if you like. Duke Baird mentioned you had a lesson on healing tonight when he complimented your progress. Might I escort you?"

Alanna hesitated before remembering that Myles had been the one that introduced her to George. "I would be happy to have your protection, Sir Myles."

He grinned, bowing to her in his most courtly way. "I would like the chance to defend you properly, after the muddle I made of it last time."

Following his lead, Alanna took his arm. "I'm sure that Eleni wouldn't mind another to dinner, warning or not. She's used to people popping in all hours of the day, as she puts it, so there's always extra in the pot."

They chatted about light things after Alanna stopped by her rooms to fetch her jacket and let Salma fuss over her a little. Salma enjoyed fussing, and Alanna did like having someone there to pay attention when she left or came back. Faithful was usually content to remain in the rooms, especially with Salma there to stoke the fires and pet him, but he leapt onto her shoulder and made no sign of moving. She was wearing one of her work-dresses suitable for the city's free healing clinics, and Eleni did like cats, so Alanna didn't try to persuade her cat to stay behind.

Coram was not happy about her plans to visit Eleni (and therefore George) when she stopped at his guardpost, but did soften a little when she kissed him on the cheek and introduced him to Sir Myles. Between Myles and Eleni, Coram must have felt that her honor was secure, because he only lectured her for two minutes on the dangers of charming liars.

Almost as an afterthought, Coram hugged her when his lecture about brigands was done. "You're quite the lady, lass. Marinie would be tickled to see you with such good friends, and I imagine his lordship will be just as impressed."

Alanna shook her head. This time, she was all too conscious of the curls in her hair, and all the things that were different from when she and Thom had been children. "Thom barely notices that grass grows anymore, Coram."

"Not Thom, miss. His Lordship your father is coming to Corus on a few matters of business, and on Sir Myles' request."

Myles looked so abashed that Alanna bit her tongue, and let the accusations subside for the moment. Faithful settled lower on her shoulder, as if he were listening.

"I… well, I meant to tell you earlier," Myles said. He had the grace to realize that he had made a mistake in not telling her, at least, and he hadn't led her wrong before. "I wrote to Alan after the unpleasant business involving your brother and finances, and detailed a few ways in which Thom may benefit from his present. I didn't dare write a word against Roger, and from Alan's reply he knows to tread carefully. I did mean to tell you, Alanna."

He hadn't misled her before, and she wouldn't lose a friend over such a small mistake. "It's alright, Myles. I'm just surprised. My father hates court, and with mother gone…"

"I promised him access to the libraries," Myles admitted. "You aren't likely to see much of him, but he did expect to arrive tomorrow. Your mention of researching Carthak reminded me that there was something I really ought to have remembered."

He was obviously sincere, at least to Alanna's eyes, so she smiled and took his arm again. "Don't beat yourself around about it, Myles, I'm happy that you wrote to my father. Libraries are about the only thing to draw him anywhere near court politics, and mother wouldn't want him to be a recluse."

Coram didn't look quite so convinced, but he would always be protective. Sometimes he was over-protective, like with Myles and George, but Alanna wouldn't change her faithful guardsman for anything. She could hardly forget that Coram had been the one to see her with the Goddess, not when he always regarded Faithful very carefully.

Faithful looked perfectly satisfied, at least, and Alanna had always trusted her cat's judgment before. The kitten (now an adolescent cat, as she expected Faithful's dignity wouldn't permit such terms as 'kitten' at six months old) had detested Roger on sight, and still would have little to do with Thom on the rare occasions he stopped by for tea and awkward, stilted conversations. Alanna knew that all of those meetings happened when Roger was otherwise engaged, and that Thom was only coming out of boredom, but she could pretend that he still cared for something other than the social status of being a considerate brother.

Faithful purred when they were nearly to Eleni's door. She had spent nearly the entire walk in thought, but still didn't know what to think about her brother.

"That's enough wool-gathering, then," she said. "It seems you did have an easier time of it, Myles, but I was distracted enough to miss at least four vagabonds attacking us."

Myles chuckled, shaking his head. "Nothing so challenging, I fear. After George chastised Marek for attacking anyone in my company, let alone someone that ended up as a friend of his, no one of the Rogue would dare to touch us. George made it exceedingly clear that you aren't to be touched."

"He hasn't told me anything of the sort." Alanna absently petted Faithful, wondering why it seemed that animals could listen in on conversations so easily.

"You aren't the type to assume you'll get special treatment, Lady Alanna, and that's quite a bit of why people can so easily give you such advantages. We trust that you won't abuse what small powers we can give you."

Alanna was still blushing from the compliment when Eleni came to the door.

"Alanna, dear, will you introduce your escort?" Eleni's words were kind as she peered into her shadowed doorway, but Alanna wasn't fooled. Eleni had a bit of tatted lace in her hand, and she could do more damage with that half-work than some knights could do with swords.

"Sir Myles, Mistress Eleni Cooper, my healing teacher and a good friend. Mistress Cooper, Sir Myles of Olau, my mentor at court and a friend of George's."

The last bit of the introduction led Eleni to smile far more warmly and set the bit of lacework aside. "Then I'm quite pleased to meet you properly, Myles. It's no offense to my hospitality, I hope, but I'd as soon not leave my son to clamber out my own windows for some knight of the realm."

"I'm one of the oddest knights in Corus, as it happens, because I may be the only man that has taken a meal with the Lord Provost and his favorite target within sunrise to sunset. Neither would ever ask me to betray the other and ruin the game, so I stay quite out of it.'

"Oh!" Eleni's expression had cleared entirely, and there was a speculative look in her eyes when she looked the knight over a second time. "You're that Myles, then, and I suppose I might have guessed sooner. Any over-proper sort isn't like to have Lady Alanna's approval, let alone her arm when she's coming by here."

"Myles is alright, ma," George said from the doorway, nodding to Alanna before clasping the knight's forearm in greeting. "I imagine your recent scarcity is due t'runnin' the full palace without much helping from th' king."

"It's a challenge, but it's hardly out of the ordinary," Myles said quietly, regaining his usual volume when the door was shut safely behind them. "It was hard enough to lose his only son, but with Lianne gone… I suppose I can't expect him to care about people anymore, not when all his family but Roger is gone."

"And it's Roger he's most like to trust, all while Roger's the last man he should be trustin'." George looked very dangerous for a moment, silhouetted against the kitchen's cheery light and idly toying with a knife, but that faded as he stepped back into the bright, safe space of Eleni's kitchen, where Alanna had taken all of her book-lessons about healing. "I've worse news, as it happens. Alanna wanted t'know about Roger, and it seems that we already have a spot of bother. Roger found his move that'll cement his place as Roald's heir."

Myles half-collapsed into the seat that Eleni offered. "Mithros, George, how could you know all of that?"

"Carthak's equivalent of the Rogue does a brisk business in exporting slaves, and not in the way most folk would imagine. Whoever the man is, he gets slaves to Tortall where they can be free, and I'm his contact man here that's helped a few of the less-savory types find gainful work."

"You recruit Carthaki thieves and cutthroats," Alanna corrected, not at all irritated with George's creative way of wording things.

"Well, yes, but that sounds all uncivilized-like." George had smiled at her, but the smile didn't last long. "As it happens, most of us in this room would guess, and my Carthaki friend knows—Roger sent the Sweating Sickness, and deliberately infected both her majesty and his highness. It's fair to bet he helped Queen Lianne's later weakness along, and it was intentional that Prince Jonathan took sick so late. No natural fever drains healers, and my ma nearly drained her core helpin' the few poor folks to catch it—and there's a thing. There's never a fever that falls on the rich that don't trickle right down t'the poor."

"So, Roger did indeed kill Jonathan." Myles' lips were very thin, and his hands clenched very tightly around the sturdy wooden mug of water Eleni had placed before him. "What else?"

George's expression promised that it wouldn't be good. "Roger and the new emperor of Carthak are friends, though they would demur and insist that they merely attended school together. As such, it fits both of them to find someone t'blame for a sickness cast on the Tortallan heir.

"A friend of Ozorne's saw th' light recently, as it happens, and denounced a few darker types of rituals and darker practices. That young friend is about t' get pegged with the murder of Prince Jonathan and some number of others, and he'll be sent to Tortall within the month to face justice." George shook his head. "That boy's an academic mage, and all of fourteen."

"Can I do anything to help?" Alanna asked.

George's smile promised many, many kinds of agreeable mischief. "As it happens, yes, but not just yet. I know I promised you all I know about Roger t'night, but we have enough to think about with this mage. I'll want you to go to the library and research away at whatever you like. Try to befriend Sir Gary. He's a good lad, when he isn't angry, and that ought to distract Roger well enough."

"I am going to learn about Carthak, or at least find all that I can."

"Perfect. Roger wants Gary isolated, I'd imagine, as the boy's a duke with near to Roger's claim toward the throne." George turned to Myles. "As for you, friend, let's see if you can start another bit of fuss over the sweating sickness. Roger won't stop you playing into his hand, or so he'll think, but get Baird and his ilk a mite suspicious before the answer gets sent in out of the blue."

"What's his name?" Alanna asked.

"Arram," George replied, looking very pleased that she had asked. "Arram Draper."


	9. Chapter Eight

_My public service announcement for the end of the year, a time when many people are feeling down:  
>Alanna's moment of self-discovery early in the chapter is based on a similar event in my own life. For anybody having a bad period, remembering that you deserve to be happy is a huge moment. Don't run away from it. <em>

_Happy New Year, everybody, you'll see more of Lady Lioness in 2012!_

**Chapter Eight**

No matter what anyone else said, Alanna knew her brother was lonely.

That was the reason they had their nearly-silent teas nearly twice a week, where he would occasionally compliment the tea or repeat some approving comment that Roger had made about her. It seemed that Thom hadn't the faintest idea that she and Roger were something like enemies, and if Roger was happy with that deception, Alanna was just as pleased. It was hard enough to keep the smallest hold on her brother when Roger could offer him power and acknowledgment and everything that their father never had.

Thinking of that led to Alanna's third comment of that day's meeting. "Father is settling in, right now, but we could both go to see him after this if you'd like. I know he'll want to talk to both of us during his stay."

Thom's eyes narrowed. "Father's here?"

Alanna had been patient. She had let Thom spend most time in her little sitting room to absolute silence, and had even begged Salma to take some free time elsewhere in the palace so it would be the two of them. Salma hadn't approved, as she still didn't like Squire Thom, but had given way in the end when she realized it was that important to Alanna.

A full week after George had told her about Roger's plans for one Arram Draper, Thom was closer to Duke Roger than ever. There was no sign that Thom disapproved of any one of the wonderful Roger's actions, and it was making Alanna think that she was only delaying the inevitable. If Thom would turn on their father…

In time, she was going to lose him. Maybe she should accept that grief now and leave room in her life for people that cared about her. She wanted Thom to be happy, but she deserved to be happy, too. Not even her twin brother took away her own right to try being happy.

Alanna stood up slowly. Thom was always fast to move when he was angry, but time and self-control had left her very deliberate in her anger. "Thom, you would be happy that Father was here if you weren't ashamed of yourself for the way you've been treating him. As it happens, I didn't write a word to father about what you did, because I didn't want to hurt him. I don't want to hurt you, either, but I can't avoid that without ignoring everything that you've done.

"Thom, you should know that Roger and I are never going to be friends. We'll make polite faces and say polite things in public, but I hate him for what he's done to you and for what he wants to do to the world." The words felt immeasurably good to say. "I can't believe a twin of mine would be party to all of the things that he wants to do, starting with Arram Draper. If you really believe that an eight year old boy created a healer-killing fever and sent it from Carthak, then I'm the queen of the Copper Isles."

"Draper's twenty-two!"

"Then he was more powerful at sixteen than you are now," Alanna snapped. "Take a look at him when he comes, Thom, you'll probably have a prime seat for the execution of a child that was a threat to Roger's power." No matter how angry she was, she couldn't say that Thom might preside over her own killing. As infuriating as her brother had become, she loved him.

That let her cool her temper the slightest bit, and to speak before Thom could collect himself. "I do love you, Thom, and I always will. You used to understand me better than anyone else, and I used to know you better than anybody."

"But we're done," Thom said flatly. "Well, that's fine with me, sister dear."

If the cutting inflection was meant to hurt her, she was too angry for the tone to land any scores on her. He stormed out of her room, which was all the better. She cleaned the entire tea set with magic, scrubbing away any trace of him, and stormed off to the library while still in a high temper. She avoided the common corridors, managing to frighten only two maids on her way to the library.

Sir Gareth the Younger hadn't been present all week, but of course he was at the central table looking sour and as unapproachable as she'd ever seen on the one day she was in no mood to charm anyone. She'd have a hard time charming paint to dry, so she gathered her favorite books with more force than completely necessary. When she settled at a table to rehash Carthaki inheritance laws and the current royal family, she did so with deep furrows between her eyes that would give Sister Thele fits about later wrinkles and the ruination of such nice skin.

Twenty minutes later, she was still tracking down the many, many heirs to the Carthaki throne when she finally gave up on her mental dialogue. It wasn't like anyone was near enough to be disturbed. "You'd think they could have some kind of lineage, there's enough fancy titles for everybody to want a big old parchment of it. Somebody needs to inherit after Ozorne."

Behind her, someone cleared his throat.

"That will probably be His Royal Highness Kaddar, prince of Siraj, duke of Yamut, count of Amar, first lord of the Imperium…and eventual heir apparent to His Most Serene Emperor Ozorne of Carthak." Gareth grinned, taking in her expression. She likely looked just as sour as he had twenty minutes before. "Of course, he's all of two at the moment, so Ozorne's rather safe. There are other heirs, actually, but by virtue of his age, Kaddar's the least likely to say dim things at court, be branded a traitor, and wind up executed."

Alanna raised a brow. "He's two."

"Given the right regents? He has the right bloodlines to prevent a civil war better than anyone else." Gareth nodded to the open seat beside her.

"Of course," Alanna said, too bemused to disagree. "I can't help but ask about your motives, however. I know we aren't friends."

"Raoul said you were nearly as bad as I am," Gareth admitted easily. "I think he was being generous to me, though, because you're much more polite. Really, I couldn't help but admire such a fine display of temper, and I am trying to remove my head from my posterior."

"Well… consider yourself forgiven, then." Alanna thought it would be harder, but she knew her mother would have frowned on any sort of grudge-holding, no matter who had been insulted. "What's this about civil war?"

Gareth explained himself at great length and with great enthusiasm. Raoul wandered in about halfway through Gareth's full description, requiring Gareth to start the summary again while the three of them considered several different tomes and two hand-etched parchments tracking the convoluted ruling house of Carthak.

"That more than answers my question," Alanna said nearly an hour later. "Thank you, Sir Gareth."

Gareth winced. "Gary, please. Sorry, but it still…"

"It's like when Trebond's head maidservant kept calling me 'my lady,'" Alanna sympathized. "It's hard when you don't feel that you earned the title."

Raoul nudged both of them approvingly. He was gentle with Alanna's shoulder, but Gary visibly wobbled from Raoul's shove. "Knew you'd get along."

"Where did you pick up so much about politics?" Alanna asked, when it was clear that Gary would rather not talk about past misdeeds or distance.

"It's important when my line's always been close to the throne," Gary admitted. "Jon was my cousin, not just my friend. Duke Roger of Conté is closer, of course, but Naxen is the next duchy in line for the throne. Along with four others, but my family's always been the favorite when it came time for someone to fill a throne. We grow on people. Rather like mold."

Alanna laughed, more at the expressions Gary made than the words. "Well, let's not say too much of mold, please. My father has a poor enough time at the palace without fussing about mold in his food."

"Lord Alan's making an appearance?" Gary blinked, then looked accusingly at Roaul. "Why don't I know about this?"

"You've been holing yourself up in the library all day," Raoul said without much sympathy. "I told you nobody talks to you in here, but apparently you made an exception."

"Well… I finally ran into somebody that looked as angry as I felt."

Alanna couldn't take offense when he was being so honest. "You can walk me to dinner, then, because Myles had some mysterious errand to do."

"Myles really took to you," Gary said thoughtfully, tucking her arm around his perfectly despite his abstracted air. "We'll leave the books, I have the feeling we'll want to talk more later. The servants assigned to the library trust I'll put them away when done with them."

"I get the feeling that he wanted a child of his own, and… well, I don't mind if he practices a little on me," Alanna replied.

Raoul looked something close to smug. "No wonder you're always gossiping like an old woman, Gary, it is nice to know something nobody else does."

Alanna knew Raoul well enough to elbow him sharply in the ribs. Well, she had aimed for the ribs, but she actually hit somewhere in his abdomen. He still wasn't fazed. "Well?"

Raoul grinned, conceding with good grace. "Myles is visiting a healer in Corus, and it's not for any sort of ailment. He looked a little moonstruck, actually, and the servants were having a great time getting him all dolled up enough to court the belle of a ball."

"Good for him!" Alanna cheered. "I'd bet that I know who it is, Gary, but it'd be an unfair bet. It's my healing tutor. He and Eleni Cooper were making eyes at each other a week ago, and he wouldn't care she's a commoner."

"Cooper?" Gary's gaze was very sharp, but his expression was amused. "Any relation to George Cooper?"

Lying had never been one of Alanna's strengths. She blushed.

Gary looked around them in a fast circle. "You know the king of thieves?" he asked in a loud whisper. "What kind of lady are you and why didn't Raoul bully me into talking to you before? I know the two of you were going to pretend at courtship to keep the rest of the bloodthirsty hordes at bay, but I'm not letting either of you leave me alone."

"George recommended that I should befriend you, actually, to confuse Rog—er."

Gary's smile was just as bloodthirsty as the hordes he had maligned. "Better and better. Far too many people like my late cousin's slimiest relation. Goddess bless her, Lianne was stronger before he came back, and weaker and weaker after." Gary nodded decisively. "We're keeping her, Raoul."

Raoul laughed, saying nothing to disprove of the declaration.

"I'll need to introduce both of you to my father, I suppose," Alanna said speculatively. "He's probably the guest of honor tonight, from what my maid told me earlier. That should ruffle enough feathers of people that don't happen to like the three of us, and make the court gossips' day a happy one."

True to her word, Alanna set many gossips into a tizzy of chattering when she walked into the ballroom escorted by a man who had previously disliked her, and both of them followed by her assumed fiancé. All expecting drama were sorely disappointed, however. Lord Alan kissed his daughter's forehead, said several polite things about her manner and her companions, and did not add one bit of scandal. Before people could fully enjoy themselves about the impropriety of one lady and two gentlemen, however, Cythera tapped Alanna on the shoulder.

"May I borrow one of your escorts, Alanna?" Cythera asked, laughter in her eyes. "I seem to have forgotten to procure one today, but I did say that if Gary would remove his head from his posterior, I would honor him with a dance."

Gary actually blushed. "I wouldn't say that's entirely true yet, my lady."

"That denial is the best sign that it is true, your grace," Cythera retorted. "Well, shall we? I do have an empty seat at my table, and you can distract me from Harailt and Muirne mooning over each other."

Raoul chuckled as Gary followed dazedly after the animated blonde. "Well, that's torn it. He's had a bit of an infatuation since she turned him down so volubly at the big town party where Alex proved himself a snake. Gary made a play for her, with her being the prettiest single woman left in the place, and she made it very clear that anyone so cruel to you had no chance with her."

"That seems like forever ago, now, and it's all well now. That's how I met my friend George."

"Ladies don't have commoner friends," Raoul warned. "Not opposite-sex ones, anyhow. Call him a cousin and nobody'll bat an eyelash."

Alanna's forehead wrinkled as she considered 'Cousin George.' "I'll just say he's my mentor's son, then, and be honest about it. He definitely doesn't act like family."

Raoul looked as if he was going to make some odd comment, but he shook his head in lieu of speaking it. "That sounds right enough to keep the conservative folk happy. I'll sit with you and your father, if you don't mind. Just talking to you at dances has kept the matchmakers away from me."

"Most nobles don't think matchmakers are so bad." Alanna couldn't help but wonder why he hated the idea so much.

"My parents were match-made, and they were living proof that it doesn't always go well. Well, my father was proof before he passed away, and my mother isn't doing much better. They weren't happy. I'd rather be single and happy than take a chance on misery."

Alanna could hardly argue with that. "I feel the same, Raoul. If I don't find someone that will make me happy, I won't be married. I can support myself as a healer if it comes to that."

"It won't," Raoul promised. "We'd be spinsters together and you could live off Goldenlake in a way that screams usury to the world, if you'd like."

Alanna smiled. The conversation turned to milder things as they approached the main table, and dwindled to nothing before she curtsied to King Roald. She couldn't help but notice Roger's presence, and Raoul was just the same. Her dear friend, however, gracefully took the seat that blocked Alanna from Roger's view entirely. In the light of Thom's poor temper and worse humor, it was a blessing to have friends. Eleni, Myles, Raoul, George, and even Gary would take care of her, and that left her to start untangling just what Roger was hoping to accomplish.


	10. Chapter Nine

_Lord Alan was much more distant in the books, but we only saw him after his wife had been gone ten years bringing his children into the world. In this universe, he and his wife loved their children together and he never had reason to despise the Gift._

_Free plug for the lovely conglomerate: thanks to McDonald's for offering free wireless internet so I can upload a chapter for you all.  
><em>

**Lady Lioness: Chapter Nine**

Alanna had no idea just what Myles had planned, but her father had approved and Myles had promised her that it wasn't an offer of marriage. She had blurted that question when Myles told her to dress in her nicest black dress for the dinner that night, but didn't regret asking. Myles had laughed and promised that betrothal wasn't on the table, and that he wouldn't steal her from her false romance with Raoul. Her father had taken tea with her, and he had asked entirely too many questions about Sir Myles to make Alanna not suspect some kind of happening.

"Stop fidgeting," Salma chastened as she attempted to fix Alanna's hair. "It's like you want to get burned again, and it doesn't matter to me you'll fix it up directly. I'd as soon not hurt you."

"Sorry, Salma. I'm just nervous about this, that's all. I hate surprises."

Salma nodded to acknowledge the apology and kept at her work with the curling iron. "With your crowd of friends, I think that's odd. All the palace is twittering that you and Sir Gareth are friendly, now, even after the man insulted you so rudely before. I'm of a mind to approve, but you certainly like surprising other people."

"It isn't like I try," Alanna retorted, twisting toward the mirror to see Salma's work the instant the hot iron was out of range. "Oh, Salma…"

Salma smiled. "I saw the old court portrait of your mother, so it was quite intentional. You and that twin of yours got your hair in the same place, that's for certain."

Alanna very hesitantly touched one of the elaborate braids that wound about her head in a coronet, but left the ringlets framing her face alone. Her hair didn't like hanging onto artificial curl, but Salma seemed to have a touch for unruly locks. "I guess I'm ready, then, but I wish Myles would have told me."

Raoul was her escort for the night, and he knew just as little as Alanna. Beyond that forgivable failing, he was wonderful. He joked with her while she waited at the receiving line yet again, like a lady that hadn't been introduced, and she did feel a little better to know that the herald was just as puzzled as both of them.

Next to Raoul, it was extraordinarily easy to look graceful and delicate. He was hardly clumsy, but he was half the size of a small giant, to hear the old tales tell it. She curtsied to King Roald, and nodded to the rest of the room, and felt very small when Raoul bowed and stepped away. She was the sole focus of the court's attention, but she kept her back straight and her head held high.

A man she had never seen before was seated at King Roald's right hand. At the king's gesture, the man stood, and by the size of his signet ring he could be nothing less than a duke. Sure enough, the herald announced him in the next moment.

"His Grace, Sir Turomot, Duke of Wellam," he called.

Duke Turomot didn't acknowledge the introduction. "Lady Alanna of Trebond. Sir Myles, baron of Olau, has extended one of our realm's oldest offers to you. He offers to make you his true heir. Should both of you die, the land will be held seven years so that any illegitimate heir of his may step forward."

There was a loud buzzing through the hall that had peaked at 'illegitimate,' but Alanna had frozen at 'heir.' She would never have asked for such a thing, but she supposed that was the point. She inclined her head as regally as she could instead of spinning to ask Myles what he was on about not telling her that he wanted her inheriting Olau. "I am honored to accept Sir Myles' kind offer, your grace."

"Let it be known that Lady Alanna has assented to this plan, and that from this moment, her proper title will be Lady Alanna of Trebond and Olau." Turomot nodded stiffly to her, and then to King Roald, before leaving the room at a dignified pace.

Raoul thumped her on the back very lightly before leading her to sit with Lord Alan. "Bit stunned, milord," Raoul told her father cheerfully. "She'll clear up, though."

"She always has before," Alan said fondly. "Daughter, don't think this means that I am giving up any claim on you. I… well, Goddess knows I'm not likely to survive losing Marinie for very long, and I want you to be well. It seems that Thom will not put your welfare before his own, but Myles offered to do just that."

"I hate surprises," Alanna muttered, feeling very ungrateful.

"I know, but think what fuss you would have made if Myles offered directly," Alan chided, standing to kiss her forehead. "Now eat your dinner and go thank Myles later. He invited someone along as his guest unexpectedly, which would have been enough to have him seated at a lower table. Then there's the rank of his guest. Several with not enough sense in their heads are aflutter that old money is courting a commoner."

Alanna's brows shot straight up. "He works fast," she murmured, glancing along the edges of the room until she saw Eleni. It was impolite to wave, of course, but a smile wouldn't be amiss. Myles ignored dignity to wave cheerfully. "He's met her twice with me, and visited her last night. Mistress Cooper is my healing instructor."

"Your mother would be very proud to hear that you're learning to heal," Alan said, following her gaze to the woman sitting with Myles. "She'd be proud all around, and I suspect she'd say to wait out Thom. I was a bit of an idiot in my younger years, thinking I wouldn't need anything but my books and my research. Your mother went and pulled me out of that library by sheer power of will, and a dance later she had me."

"Pity he's managed to alienate everybody but Lady Delia," Alanna said thoughtfully. Maybe another woman would succeed where she couldn't, but she suspected it would need to be someone Thom hadn't yet offended. "Beyond the part where I'll not let Delia near him, no matter how obnoxious he is, she's only interested in Roger." Alanna looked at her father, taking in all the new wrinkles and the small changes that no stranger could find. "One dance?"

Her father smiled as he shook his head. "One dance broke the shell, but I'd waited a bit too long. Believe me, the greatest thing I ever did might have been winning her over. That led to you and Thom. I know that boy will see the light, in time, and I hope it will be before he manages to do something even family couldn't forgive."

Alanna shivered, reflexively clutching at her ember pendant. Something in those words felt all too much like prophecy for liking, and maybe the Goddess had chosen her for something more than healing and minding a scrap of a kitten that was rapidly growing into a handsome young cat.

A glimmer of gold caught her eye at Muirne's table. Harailt of Aili was doing some trick that turned a folded napkin bird into the real specimen, briefly, and that process shone gold. Alanna let go of the pendant in surprise, but touched it again when the gold vanished.

She could see the Gift with the Goddess's present. Whatever the Great Lady had meant, it seemed that it was more complicated than Alanna had wanted to consider at first.

Raoul nudged her elbow. "Himself's noticing," he muttered when she started at Raoul's interruption. Sure enough, Duke Roger was watching her closely.

"I was wool-gathering," Alanna told her friend, letting her voice carry Duke Roger's way. "Do you suppose there's a spell to remove cat-hair from clothes? Faithful never likes to be left alone, and seems to shed on me every time I have a nice event to make."

Raoul had met Faithful twice, and he was canny enough to continue a light conversation about cats and pets in face of Roger's scrutiny. Raoul had a big warhorse, as only befitted his stature, but he had named the war-trained animal Calm.

"It's a useful thing to yell around the pages, is all," Raoul explained. "The men, too. Sing out 'calm' and they often come to senses. Calm and I will be getting a little field practice, as it happens, and I just had my orders this afternoon. I'm really glad you and Gary get on, now, because I want someone looking after you and someone keeping him from hiding himself in a corner."

"Where are you going, Raoul?"

"The desert," he answered. "Haven't the faintest idea how a big brute like me is expected to make friendly with the natives, but as it happens I'm the only knight with a company of enlisted men all to my own. It's going to be some kind of campaign, I'll tell you that. I don't even have the name of the tribe I'm contacting, just a vague location."

It sounded like a poorly veiled excuse to get rid of Raoul, a known supporter of Jon and close friend to Gareth of Naxen, but he was just as like to notice. The Bazhir wouldn't know that the giant Tortallan was one of the friendliest men the crown could offer. "Gary has no such postings?"

"He's in grieving, and only three months ahead of yours. It'll be summer before anyone can command him on a mission, and Gary knows not to volunteer until he's really alright." Raoul sounded calm, at least, and didn't look at all afraid.

"I'm sending a few presents with you," Alanna said impulsively. "A full self-healing kit, so don't you turn it down. Bruise balm, creams for sunburns and wind rashes… some sort of horse liniment, I'll ask Stefan about what's the best kind."

"Add something for sore feet and I'll propose for real," Raoul joked. "Well, fake-real. You're the best sister I never had, Alanna, and I'm glad that you'll be set as a baroness while I'm off to fight the wars."

Alanna grinned, pleased she wouldn't have to fight Raoul on accepting the present. "If we really want gossip, you can even take a handkerchief along as a favor."

"Do me a favor and kit in enough sun cream for the enlisted men, instead. They're not like to come with anything as nice as you can make."

"Done," Alanna promised. "When are you leaving?"

"Four days from now, in the morning."

"You'll have it ready to go by then, Raoul, and Goddess watch over you." Alanna clutched at her pendant again, to make the words stick as best she could. He was important to her, and she couldn't imagine court without her enormously tall friend.

"So mote it be," he replied automatically. "I don't mean to talk of sadder things on your big night, Alanna. You'll be a baroness, now, and it's finally late enough that I can go get my things in order before I head out. Calming Gary down is going to be the worst, after he lost his father to some magic from a Bazhir tribe."

"I'll stop to talk to Myles, at least, and to say hello to Eleni. I don't think you've met her before, but you really should find Gary before gossip spreads too widely about your new mission." Alanna hugged her friend, not all that bothered that her arms were barely over his waist.

"Good thinking, Alanna. You keep yourself out of too much trouble, now."

The parting felt final, for all that Raoul wasn't leaving quickly at all, but she found out why very quickly. Her father was leaving the next day, as Tortall had experienced bad flooding, so her morning would be spent seeing him off. After that, Myles had offered to take her on a trip to see the barony that she now would inherit, with Eleni coming along to continue her lessons.

In light of the gift, she refrained from saying that more than healing lessons were like to take place. Eleni had a very enlightened view on the proper placement of intimate affairs, and Alanna had the feeling she'd be entertaining herself after dinners out of politeness. Myles and Eleni would rather be left alone.

"You might want to check on your mount before the ride," Eleni said mildly. "I know you haven't had much chance for riding, yet, and you'll want to be sure the two of you are still getting on."

Alanna suspected the reasons, but she wasn't averse to a visit from George. "I'll just stop in my room to change, then, and dirty up a plain dress walking around a horse's stall." She did like visiting Moonlight, as it happened, and she wanted to keep her alibis firmly intact.

Just half an hour later, she was in the stables wearing one of her plainest dresses. Just as she thought, a man in the stable's livery was very competently mucking out Moonlight's stall.

"We really can't keep meeting like this, George," Alanna chided quietly, once she confirmed his identity through the moon's light silhouetting his jawline. He actually jumped, which had to be some sort of credit toward her. "I have the feeling that you're tricky enough to influence Myles?"

"Ye know me too well, I think. I helped Myles find the right laws t'push the matter through Turomot, and he's the best there is. If Turomot says it's all well and legal, nobody will fight him on it." George finished laying down the clean straw before hugging her. "You did look quite nice earlier, but this isn't half bad."

"George!"

"The Lord Provost walked right by me, his vision is weaker on the left side and he still doesn't compensate enough," he explained, laughing. "Relax, milady, I know my tricks. I'd not be living without dancing on the edge once in a bit. Speaking of an edge, I'll be coming along to Olau for a day or two. It does my people good to try living without my nannying them all a day. The troublemakers'll get bored and give me more to do than sit about looking impressive."

"Gods forbid," Alanna muttered, irritated enough for the tiny blasphemy. "At least I'll have someone to talk to after dinner."

George grinned widely. "I couldn't have found somebody I'd trust more with my mother, and I can't help but approve of a fast worker. Much more efficient that way, after all, and it's not like either would change a mind anyway."

"My father approves," Alanna confided, still a little stunned by the admission. "To hear everybody, he was very set in stone when he was young, but my mother must have changed him more than I thought. Myles is an old friend of his, so I guess he put happiness first."

"Then he's a wise man, and your mother was one of those women I wish I could have met."

"She would have liked you." Somehow, it didn't hurt to talk about her mother with George, or at least talking about the best parts didn't hurt at all. "She would have liked any of my friends, I think, but she'd say we were already something about a story. You're enough of a story on your own."

"Mayhap, but I'm the type people will remember vaguely—hopefully as that Rogue that retired gracefully enough that the lawmen didn't chase him forevermore. You're going to be a known name by the end of this, Alanna, and I'm never wrong about those kind of things." George looked very, very serious, but she supposed that they had to be.

"It only makes sense," Alanna admitted. "Your mother knew from the start, I think, because this pendant I always wear…"

"It's god-touched."

"A little more than that." Alanna toyed with it, not finding any magic around them. "The Goddess gave it to me, right after I found a kitten with purple eyes. You haven't met Faithful yet, but I get the feeling that is going to change. Faithful doesn't like being left behind."

"That's… huh." George didn't look taken aback so much as relieved. "That explains why my mother was so taken from the start, even more than the healing alone."

Somehow, it made sense that George would know before Raoul. "Raoul's being sent to the Bazhir. Do you think…"

"I'll look into it," George promised. "I'll slip a couple pages into library books he uses, and I'll even have one of my palace folks do the job."

Alanna might have a very strange circle of friends, but she wouldn't trade any of them for the world. She wouldn't even trade them for her brother.


	11. Chapter Ten

_To the many impatient readers and reviewers: Arram still isn't in this chapter, but I do have another guest appearance.  
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**Lady Lioness: Chapter Ten**

Barony Olau was beautiful, and had enough land to please any rural noble. The orchards had been her favorite part, besides the comfortable manor, but the ruins of the Old Ones were just as impressive. The trip to Olau hadn't had any of the awkwardness Alanna had dreaded. Despite Myles and Eleni's obvious courtship, they had kept her included in the light conversation about horses, healing, and the oncoming winter.

George was still working in Corus to find just what Raoul would be facing, Faithful had not been lured into a long trip by horseback, and Eleni had been struck with inspiration for a new weaving, so Alanna and Myles were alone as they walked through the ruins.

Myles had already apologized several times for the suddenness of her new inheritance, but she was much more interested in the explanation. Roger had been a little too interested in Alanna, it seemed, and she didn't have powerful enough allies to protect her if he decided that she was a threat. Mages of lesser power had vanished or had ended up mysteriously crippled. That had happened to mages with no connection to Roger but proximity, let alone known powers that had already defied him. If such a fate happened to a baroness, the entire country would look closely.

Myles had proposed it to his old friend Lord Alan as an excellent way to gain a worthy heir, and a way to not leave Alanna pressured about a dowry. In light of Thom's mishandling of Lord Alan's funds for both twins, Alan was pleased to agree with the offer. Duke Turomot had agreed with none of the expected arguments, leaving Alanna with a large amount of money to accompany her Book of Gold nobility status. She wasn't fully protected, still, but Roger might risk civil war by killing a rich and connected noble too injudiciously.

That was a heavy topic, however, so they readily changed the topic to speak about the Old Ones and the ruins they had left behind.

Myles had just reached a pause in his stories about the Old Ones and their writings when she spied the storm door. "Have you ever been down here?" Alanna asked.

"I've never been able to lift the cover."

"Here, I'll help this time," Alanna said. She never had been one for restrictive undergarments, so it was easy to bend over and grasp the old iron ring that had somehow escaped any sign of rust. "Help me out, Myles?"

He bit back a comment before bending to pull with one hand. "As I was about to say, I've tried this before, and with…" His words trailed away as they pulled open the trapdoor to reveal a staircase. "With the blacksmith's son."

"It's about leverage, then." Alanna ignored the part where Myles would certainly know more than she would on that subject. She called a glowing purple dome to her hand and peered down the dark stairs. "I'll be back in a minute, unless you're coming with me?"

Myles was pale as chalk. "Alanna…"

She shrugged off the hand that had clutched weakly at her shoulder and descended into the darkness. It was a very dangerous decision, perhaps, but something was compelling her. Alanna doubted she would have been able to resist, so she would try to follow on her own terms. She walked down the stairs slowly, feeling a constricting force settle all around her, and was not surprised when her purple witchlight faded to nothing. Her magic meant nothing in the blackness, and she probably should have listened to Myles.

She was probably going to die, and beyond the part where Myles would look terrible by association with her death, she was sorry that it would hurt him. Her death would hurt George, Myles, Eleni, Raoul, Gary, Faithful, Salma, her father… it would even hurt her brother.

She knew that her death would hurt Thom, no matter what had happened between them, and regretted that she wouldn't be able to leave the blackness to pull her twin away from Roger.

She had thought that she would be afraid, but she only felt peaceful. There was no use worrying that they would be hurt when she wouldn't be able to help them, and in time they would find the same peace with her death.

Suddenly, light blazed around her, and the Goddess smiled on her for the second time.

"You have made wonderful allies, my child, but it will take more than friendship to complete your task. You will need to fight, and fight more than in spirit."

The blaze was coming from the pommel stone of a sword, bright as lightning. Alanna blinked tears away from her eyes at the intensity of the light as she stepped through the thick air to accept the sword.

In an instant, the Goddess was gone, and so was the sense of pressure. She climbed the stairs in a daze to find Myles at their head, damp from the light rain falling all around him.

"Alanna! You're… Mithros, child, let's get you inside."

She let Myles fuss, too tired to put up any sort of struggle. Eleni took one look at her before taking over. Myles was trusted to hold onto the sword while Eleni bustled Alanna into a warm bath, warmed towels, a clean nightdress, and then into bed. When Alanna woke hours later, she could hear voices down the hall.

"Never mind how I know," George was saying when she had walked close enough to make out individual words. "That sword's meant for her, Myles, and it isn't worth trying to coddle her a day. There are some forces no man should try to alter, and I say that as someone what's treated with a god."

"George!"

"I would've told ye, mother, but you'd worry—much like this. It ended on good terms, and he owes me a favor that I just may need to collect by the time all this is over. Alanna already knows, so the two of you should. Roger's found a scapegoat for the nasty fever he brewed up, probably with Ozorne's help, and it's a fourteen-year-old boy." George's brogue was nearly gone, but Alanna suspected that was because the thief was reasoning with Myles on Olau's grounds. George seemed to have three reasons for every action he took.

"He would have been eight when the spell was cast," Myles protested. "Just how powerful is he that anyone would believe such a lie?"

"Powerful beyond my ken, I'd imagine," George returned calmly. "He's strong enough to scare Ozorne and Roger both, so I mean to recruit him to our side of things—don't waffle, Myles. We're against Roger, so we're not on his side and may well be honest."

Alanna chose that as her moment to enter. "It will come to sides, Myles," she said from the doorway. They all were sitting around a table, with her sword on the table's center. "I'm supposed to fight with that sword, in time, and it would be easier if I wasn't hiding from you. You know that I have the raw basics of weaponry." She took the open seat beside George.

"Marek was quite certain of it, lass, and he's a fine eye for swordwork." George looked pointedly at their present company. "I believe all of us know but Myles, but I'll share secret for secret. It isn't easy to become a king of thieves without more backstabbing than I saw, but I had the advantage of a trickster god. I'd rather not use names lest he take it as an invitation, the god's vainer than a cat."

Alanna toyed with her ember pendant as she gathered the courage to speak. The Goddess had praised her allies, and these were some of the people she trusted the most. "I suspect you've always known, Eleni, and I haven't wanted to tell Myles within the palace. After my mother's funeral, the Goddess came to me. I'd been following a kitten into the woods when I saw her. The Goddess gave me the pendant I always wear, but it was an ember in her hand." The explanation seemed too simple, but there was no use dwelling on the strange story. Myles would believe or he wouldn't, but she was nearly certain that he would choose to accept the tale.

"With the sword…" Alanna stroked the crystal at the end of the hilt, but it didn't so much as spark. "I thought I was going to die down those stairs, but just when I was thinking about Thom, the goddess came, and the sword was brighter than anything. It looked like a lightning strike."

Myles looked stunned, which she had expected, but Eleni looked pleased. "I knew you were under the Goddess's protection, child, but not that the Goddess had chosen you. It is a hard path, but you're doing quite well with it so far."

"The sword is yours, lass. I can show you the basics, but for th' rest… you did good work befriending Gary. Aside from Alex of Tirragen, Gary's the best, and you'll not want to mix with Tirragen." George looked reluctant to share the last detail. "Tirragen's forever jealous that Roger chose Thom as squire."

Myles touched the flat of the sword's blade carefully. "It looks like a remnant of the Old Ones, and who better to dispense it than the Goddess? They called her the Dark Mother, when they wrote of her." Something in his expression stilled when he looked at Alanna, like he was looking at royalty and making an effort to be formal. "It's your sword, Alanna."

"A sword that grand certainly deserves a name," Eleni said.

It was just as easy as naming Faithful. "Lightning," Alanna replied, testing the edge very carefully. It sliced into the pad of her index finger, a shallow wound fixed a moment later with a burst of violet magic. She watched the healing with a hand on the ember, following the patterns her Gift made.

"I can see the Gift with this pendant, and it's in the right colors for the person using it."

"Roger's is orange," George offered. "I can see magic and most else without artifacts, a little specialty of mine. It's not the Gift, but sight serves me well."

"Well." Myles nudged the hilt of the blade toward her. "I've taught pages, and I wager you'll be a much faster study after your time of watching the young sorcerers at work. I'll hint Gary along if he proves recalcitrant, but I suspect this is just the thing that will keep him gainfully occupied with Raoul gone. It will necessarily involve sneaking about and some deception of the conservative minds, and he'll quite enjoy that alone."

"With Raoul gone, Gary can be my new beau," Alanna said thoughtfully, pushing her chair away from the table to pace. She heard George choke on his wine behind her, but trusted that his mother wouldn't let him aspirate the drink while Alanna was distracted. "Raoul and I were having fun playing at courtship, but I can be desolate that he's gone. Gary can comfort me for a while, and look much better by that association. When I break it off later, Cythera can comfort _him, _and then all involved should be happy," Alanna finished triumphantly.

Myles chuckled. "So Cythera is sweet on the young man! Here I was thinking that Gary would come out of his depression straight into unrequited affections. That's a far better story, Alanna, and I suspect your friendship with him can involve lessons in swords."

"Gary was all sorts of impressed that I knew the king of thieves," Alanna offered, retaking her seat. "All I said was that Eleni was my tutor, and he guessed from the surname."

"Perfect. I'll drop in, then." George looked very cheerful for someone that had nearly choked on his wine. "It's honest enough for Gary to come to my mother's, she can officially chaperone the two of you while Gary starts exploring the city again.

"Unofficially, he can teach you swordswomanship and I can see just who's been talking t' strangers." George sounded a little too friendly, and there was something very wolfish in his smile. Alanna had been friends with him long enough that she only regretted someone had been dim enough to give Eleni's name and cross the King of Thieves.

"Gary's lessons will keep me out of trouble," Alanna remarked, with the strong feeling she was about to spend entirely too much time being sweaty and tired. "Did you get the information to Raoul, George?"

George bowed elaborately. "But of course, milady," he said in a put-on courtier's voice. Alanna giggled while he resumed his natural brogue. "Raoul had the timing to catch me with th' last drop. I played the librarian, but your barbarian of a friend's smarter than he looks. That's for the best, because apart from the face Sir Goldenlake looks to have the wits of a stump."

Alanna might have taken umbrage, but it was true. From the back, Raoul did look like he wouldn't have a spare thought. "Maybe I can have all my friends working together, then. Myles, your little conspiracy in the palace is running the place now, but that will fall apart when Roger makes his next move. I don't know what to do, but I don't think I have the leverage to save King Roald."

Myles and Eleni made the sign against evil. George leaned back in his chair. "I thought much the same," George admitted. "Roald's inner circle is gone. Gareth the Elder was his closest confidant beside Lianne, and with both them and Jonathan gone, Roald's not left with much reason to cling to his throne. At best, he abdicates and might live a while, but he won't take that throne back without more gumption than he has left. We need a champion that can win even over Roger's appeal."

"Would Roger's rule be so bad?" Myles asked, running a hand through his thinning hair. "You're discussing regicide as if it's a given, and planning a revolution."

"Regicide is a given," Eleni said crisply. "Roger wants power, and Roald is in his way. Even if Roald does manage to die naturally, Roger will have helped him along. A man willing to kill his own blood will never be king when there's a thing I can do to help."

Myles looked abashed. "I'll speak to the poetry circle about contingency plans, then. Harailt does the wards for us, and they're a tricky bit of work. They're not very powerful, but they make the hearer remember only what he expects. Harailt's an old hand at looking unimpressive until his strength is needed."

"My thieves like stable nations that don't mind a bit of controlled crime. The Lord Provost doesn't chase me too hard provided I have th' rest in line," George said. "My boys and girls don't like Uncle Roger, and we're starting to make it clear. His men never get back to the palace with full belt-purses."

"Gary and Raoul despise Roger, and they were both especially devoted to Jonathan." Alanna felt a fleeting pang for the long-dead prince. Somehow, she knew that any friend of Gary and Raoul would have been a close friend of hers. If she had been a page, just like she had played at through her childhood… if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Still, she thought she would have liked the stubborn prince.

"They're at the heart of the young nobles," Myles said thoughtfully. "Douglass of Veldine, Raoul's old squire, and Sacherell of Wellam, Turomot's grand-nephew, are both at the Scanran border now, but they were devoted to Jonathan. All the young men of that age also lost Francis of Nond to the sweating sickness."

She made the sign against evil for the dead man, another ally lost to Roger.

Someday, Roger would pay for what he had done. Alanna's smile was every bit as wolfish as George's had been, had she only realized. "Then the next trick shall be getting everyone ready to stand against Roger, when the time comes. After that, the next bit of work is to have them all working together. From there, Roger's allies are still weak. He has the dubious support of Alex of Tirragen and Delia of Eldorne, but most nobles still feel alienated from him." Her expression fell as she considered the last piece. "He also has my brother."

"How strong is your brother in the Gift?" Myles asked. "I was never quite sure."

"At least my strength, if not stronger," Alanna admitted. "I'll need to start learning defense and attacks. From what I know, fights between the Gifted all very flashy, but I imagine I could wreak enough havoc adapting healing together with known spells." Several of the more famous bits of combat magic took minimal finesse to cause damage, but she imagined that working her magic in its specific forms could do far better. She wouldn't have the range, but she would be able to incapacitate most anyone within her range before they had time for a spoken spell.

If Myles gaped at such a casual mention of changing old spells to her own purpose, Alanna was too caught in what she might be able to do. "I don't want to fight Thom, but I will. I might be the only person that can stand against him or Roger."

"Harailt is too academic to be much help in a fight." Myles frowned, looking as if he would take personal responsibility for that failure.

George slid a creased piece of paper onto the table, unfolding the parchment almost reverently. "That's where our newest recruit comes into play." The parchment showed a detailed ink drawing of a dusky-skinned young man with a long nose and a dreamy look in his eyes. "Meet Arram Draper. He's the reason that I was delayed in getting t' Olau. Carthak granted the warrant of extradition just yesterday, and it'll be a week or two for him to get to Corus, depending on the currents this time of year. He'll have a very loud, very showy trial, and then a very public date of execution set. I imagine he'll be in no condition for much of anything by then."

Myles considered the drawing upside-down. When Alanna had reached to edge the picture closer to her, no one had disputed her claim. "Who passed this on to you, George?"

"One of the Carthaki palace mutes is an artist—the slaves, that is. Carthak keeps slaves, still, and the ones serving the most important are made t' not talk. As it happens, a few of them carry messages to the stable when His Imperial Majesty wants a ride, and to one of my men in that stable has refused to come on over to freedom. Revolution might get 'im over here, so that'll be something.

"Musenda has kept sending me updates about young Master Draper. To hear it, Draper's the worst hand with a horse that th' world has yet to see, but the boy's gentle with them." George looked at the portrait, letting a softer look than usual show. "For all the times Draper fell off the mildest gelding, or a mischievous stallion bucked him, Arram never once raised a hand to one of those beasts. The boy even had the sense to please and thank you with all the slaves no matter who teased, and Musenda's right fond of him.

"Draper's a good man, and knows Roger for the snake he is. I've already taken a look at the cell they set aside for that boy. The door's warded so tight nobody with a single trace of Gift can pass through without a mage of Roger's caliber working th' door while some other pre-approved mage keeps the ward-keys in place," George explained with a broad grin. "Th' wards tie into the personal core of anyone gettin' too close."

Alanna's slow smile matched the light in George's eyes. "Mages. The door's probably warded tight enough that not a mouse could get through, and all while they forgot the window!"

"Exactly, lass. When they get him in that jail cell, I'm taking that boy a message from his old friend in the stables, then I'm taking Draper straight out the window.

"He'll be on the third floor, but that's not all that bad. I'll be on th' roof waitin' for the late shift of guards, then I'll shimmy on down a good rope. There's some charm already on the rope by my mother that'll have it coil itself up again when I'm ready for it and say th' right word, to not leave hints behind. I'm plannin' t' carry the boy on down, and know I can manage with him for all that he's a very tall fellow and most of it's elbows and knees."

Alanna studied the face of the fourteen-year-old mage one last time before pushing the parchment back to George. By all reports, he had an amazingly strong Gift, but she was more reassured by Arram Draper's good nature. It was past time that her little conspiracy grew into something more. Her ember was warm at her throat when she took up the sword; she had the distinct feeling that the Goddess approved of their latest gambit.


	12. Chapter Eleven

_This is the end of act one, folks, and it's an extra-long chapter in honor of all the people following this story. _

**Lady Lioness: Chapter Eleven **

Learning the art of swordplay did not start with her first lesson. Gary was a great teacher, but he was also a relentless one. They started with days of learning the proper way to fall, learning how to take a punch, and learning several difficult exercises to increase her strength. Alanna approved, but her bone-weary muscles did not.

For the next ten days, they added the basics of holding the sword, taking a stance, and working her soft arm muscles into something more functional. The next six days were a flurry of attacks and counter-attacks and so many drills that only her Gift and her newfound talent for healing kept her coming back for more. She was sure that Gary's enthusiasm for their secret project might have crippled her, otherwise, because her entire body was one large cramp that only her Gift could mend. Alanna despaired of her progress in all but building up her stamina and stubbornness, with Gary beating her in every single open duel, but Gary reassured her each step of the way.

Their lessons started too early for the training masters to want the practice courts, continued during Alanna's reputed healing lessons in the city during the day, and started again after dinners at the palace. Sometimes, George took the after-dinner lessons, and in time he had a larger part in those late bits of swordwork. Cythera was convinced that Alanna had a winter influenza after so many excuses to avoid their usual teas, always a serious concern since the sweating sickness that took the prince, but was reassured when Alanna promised that she was merely working on a new project.

When she wasn't training with Gary, refining her defenses with George, or keeping up her lessons with Eleni, Alanna plotted her newly fledged conspiracy with Myles. Raoul was out of reach for an unforeseeable amount of time in the desert, but all letters back to Corus said that he was doing wonderfully. The Great Southern Desert left little room for mail service, normally, but somehow Raoul's brand of guileless charm had won over Amman Kemail and had won Raoul reliable access to Persopolis's mail ride. Kemail had been a relentless Bazhir voice against the Tortallan influence, but Raoul's horsemanship had won him all the time he needed to call Amman Kemail a friend.

Within ten days, Raoul was a member of the Sunset Dragon tribe and of the Bazhir themselves. The Voice had accepted his intentions as pure. Raoul couldn't describe exactly what it had been like, attracting the sole attention of the Voice, but Alanna read in the awed phrasing something very much like coming face to face with the Goddess. Raoul had even gained enough standing to take up the cause of Kara, the lone survivor of the Bloody Hawk tribe.

Tortall had heard that there were no survivors, but it seemed that the tribes hadn't counted an outcast as one worthy of such a report. Raoul found her more than worthy, and had already arranged the girl's temporary passage to Corus. She was Gifted, and he'd swear by that for all that he was as magical as a tree stump.

Alanna had a word with Eleni, and there were two problems mended. Kara would have a worthy teacher, and Eleni's tendency to collect strays would be satisfied for a while longer. To hear George tell it, his mother always needed someone around to look after, be it a knight or a stray mage.

Eleni had also claimed custody of their as yet unrescued mage, who had yet to arrive in Tortall. Nonetheless, Eleni was firm in insisting that she would take Arram Draper under her wing. He sounded much the type to need practical instruction in the Gift, Eleni said, and a little mothering would go a long way after such a hard story. Musenda had sent his most dangerous report yet, one explaining the downfall of a friendship between Carthak's second-youngest emperor and Arram Draper. Musenda was sure that Roger had orchestrated the rift between Arram and Ozorne, even with no proof behind his allegations, and George trusted the man's reason well enough to accept that accusation as fact.

George tended to discuss his latest plans with Alanna during their swordplay, to better catch her offguard. Of all her teachers, George taught her the harshest lessons. Gary would let up when she was tired to exhaustion, but George would only push harder. Coram was strictly honorable on the few occasions she could sneak in a bout with him, but George never followed such conventions. Eleni would let her take breaks and naps, but George had no mercy in his heart for any student under his instruction.

"I think I hate you right now," Alanna had said during one of many sessions where she could have sworn that his two little knives had been well away from her person. She had sighted both of them when she had swept her blunt metal practice sword past his guard, but she had two small nicks on her wrists that trickled blood as she shook out cramping in her arms.

"I imagine you do, lass, but that'll pass when you run into some bastard just as bad as me." George had even sounded cheerful, which strengthened her transient loathing. He did stop long enough to let her heal the small cuts, but Alanna was sure that was from respect for his unstained room above the Dancing Dove than for her comfort.

That dislike passed when only George's lessons were any kind of real challenge. Alanna wasn't at Gary's level of skill yet, so he always went easy on her or beat her soundly, with no middle ground to let her gauge her progress. Coram flat-out refused to hit at his full strength, and Alanna couldn't ask the man to go against his nature. Eleni had exhausted her supply of knowledge and proclaimed Alanna a healer in her own right, free to take lessons from Duke Baird when she finally had the time.

Alanna started to cope with her manic schedule without use of her healing after three weeks of intensive work, and only relaxed when Gary pronounced her the equal of any squire. She reduced her schedule to only lessons with George. Gary had taught her quite a bit, and had regained something of himself in the process. Coram was relieved that his lady would be able to defend herself. Eleni was thrilled with Alanna's work in healing, and had conscripted Alanna to donate at least one afternoon a week to the free clinic that shared a wall with the Great Mother's temple. Before, she had been Eleni's assistant, but now she would be a healer in her own right.

She told George that she wanted to keep learning from him, and his smile would have melted the iciest heart. Her heart was hardly ice, so it thudded a little harder in answer to George's full-on charm. She swore that he knew exactly what it did, and sometimes she imagined it might all be a game to him, but it was the best game that she had ever played.

She and George had moved their lessons to his rooms above the Dancing Dove the week before. George had started to worry his mother even before his lessons involved small cuts to prove where he had hit. Alanna trusted his control with those knives, and her own ability to heal any small hurts that came in their fights. George had let her start learning with knives, but she preferred to stay with the sword. Knife fights came down to contests of strength all too often, and she could hardly hope to be fighting people smaller than she was. Most of the court's ladies were half a head taller, and most of the men tended toward much taller heights.

Alanna won her first fight the day that Arram Draper finally came to Corus.

She had finally realized that for all of George's flagrant cheating, she had been staying with the conventions of fighting and the polite society rules that governed civil combats. She was fighting the King of Thieves in his own bedroom. Alanna had shot a foot-tangling spell deliberately too far left to catch him well, and he darted to the right, directly into the full-bodied net that was too finely woven for even his Sight to catch.

Her sword's point rested at his throat, and with her arm outstretched he didn't have the range to catch her with one of his knives.

George, of course, had been delighted that she learned one of his final lessons. "People think honor's the most important bit, but that's only in stories," he had explained while she tried to work out just how she was going to counter her grand idea. George was being remarkably patient for a man caught in a magical net, but as he explained it if someone burst in he'd get a front-row seat of her fighting off a moderately sized horde. She wasn't yet ready for a larger horde than that, he said, but she accepted the compliment for what it was.

"Survivin' the fight to reach your objective is a little more important than some set of rules you never agreed to follow. You aren't bound by convention because ye pick up a sword, and that goes triple for you," George continued when she finally caught the trick of unraveling her work. "You'll already follow th' important rules. You don't fight a helpless victim, you don't kill needlessly, and ye _never _drop your weapon until the fighting is over."

Alanna had a trace of battle-high from finally winning, but she tamped that down to take in the latest lesson. "I can manage that, George."

"Thought you… hm." George glanced down at the floor as if he could see straight through it. "Let's head downstairs—meant to show you before, but mother sent on a present. You're dressed plain enough for this to work."

Before Alanna had time to ask what he meant, George produced a long black wig with a flourish. "Here we are. Your hair's too remarkable, lass, so she sent this on for when you wanted to see more of the Dove than the outside and back stairway. Do you have a name in mind?"

"Aly, I think. That was my mother's name for me when I was young." Alanna stroked the wig hesitantly, unsurprised to find that it was real hair. "Help me get this on?"

Alanna wound her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck while George arranged the black wig over the wisps of red. "Your eyes will still draw notice, but that's not to be avoided. Let's see, you're a mite short to be a cousin… you alright with being a new maid at the palace? Cythera has that shy girl that never gets out, I only know of her from Stefan and palace gossip."

"That'll work for me," Alanna said, checking her reflection. The difference was startling, and her pale skin looked nearly ghostly under the wig and above her black dress. "We can say that I don't get out much," she added dryly. "Let's go see what all the fussing is over."

Alanna realized halfway down the stairs that people would have a very inaccurate idea of just what she'd been doing in George's room, but she was not going to let that stop her. Her practice sword was safely stowed under his bed, her plain dress was quite nice enough, and if her dress was mussed from the fighting, at least her false hair looked nice. If the entire room assumed that she and George had taken a tumble together, at least she would be credited for choosing a remarkable sex partner.

The room was in an uproar, as it happened, and only a few people even noticed her coming from George's room. The rest were staring at the most muscular man Alanna had seen in her life, a huge black man with scabs all around his wrists. Her fingers itched with the need to heal the ugly wounds, but she let George take the lead.

George said something in a very strange language, drawing a chuckle from the stranger.

"Figured you'd be that polite, Cooper," the strange man said in perfect Common. "I think I timed getting here just right. I'm the fellow that's been sending you letters, and we really should have a talk."

George grinned. "Figures you show up just in time, you always did seem the practical sort." He glanced about the bar. "Ladies and gents, why don't you let old Solom clean up the place? Look at the mess you've made," he chided. Most of the 'ladies and gents' looked unruffled as they grabbed their belongings and filed out the door, but several glanced longingly toward the bar.

"Oh, don't go drown your sorrows somewhere else too long," George added. "It'll be drinks on the king tonight, spread the word and it'll be less for you." With that, the departing crowd looked immeasurably more cheerful.

In the end, only Alanna and the stranger were left with George as the innkeeper shuffled about collecting plates and cups from the tables.

"There we are. Alanna, lass, ye can ditch the headgear if you want. My folk know better than to watch at windows when a few of mine are already watching over the place for me. Only a couple of those watch through the glass. Marek wants my seat, to be sure, but he'll not bother with back-door theatrics. When he's ready to fight me, we'll fight." George waved to one of the windows, grinning when a hand flashed an 'all is well' sign just above the sill. "There. I suppose introductions would be polite, and I'm the one to know you both.

"Lady Alanna, may I present Musenda Ogunsanwo, a sergeant in the Carthaki cavalry—hm. Former sergeant, Musenda?"

The big man's smile was entirely too placid. "Former as of two weeks back, Cooper, and a few folk what didn't like my resignation tendered their own dismissal from the service."

"You do have a way with words," George said admiringly. "I'll imagine my men and some of my women would buy you all the drinks you like for that story. Another time, however.

"Musenda, this here is Lady Alanna of Trebond and Olau, a fully certified healer when she had time to take the certification, a swordswoman who will gain some renown the first occasion she has to publicly demonstrate the skill, and a conspirator leadin' the merry group that wants Roger of Conté far away from any throne."

Alanna shook the man's hand, then dipped her head to study his wrist. "Might I heal these for you?" she asked, looking again at the large wounds all around his wrist. "I imagine you'll want the hands, if only to help any other needful types with their severance package."

Both of Musenda's eyebrows shot up, a more dramatic effect than usual given his bald head. "No wonder you keep with Cooper. Have at them, then, I'm not fool enough to turn down a healing."

The wounds were too old for Alanna to mend all the hurt, but she could minimize the appearance of the scars. Her work ended with thin pink scars roping around the man's wrists, but she knew that all but the skin had healed fully. "It looked worse than it was," she reported, adding a small trace of magical encouragement for any other hurts he might have. She had to crane her neck back to talk to him, even with both of them sitting.

"Felt pretty bad. Thank you for the help, little lady."

Alanna grinned, rather taken by the affectionate tone in the new title. Maybe Musenda could stay on the list of the few people allowed to tease about her height. "George, you must have a short friend somewhere," she joked. "I keep meeting tall men, with you and Raoul and Gary."

"I'm sorry to report that Draper is about as tall as I am, then," Musenda said. "He's lanky when healthy, so I have no notion how bad he'll look now. Last I saw him, he was starting to look a bit grey at the gills." The words kept the same easy lilt, but the tone was entirely serious.

"I have a plan all set up, but there's room for you to stand at the bottom and play catch-the-mage if you like," George offered. "I'm handling most of it, on virtue of actually being small enough to let meself in through the window and out again, but I'd feel better with a failsafe."

"I can get you onto the palace grounds, if you don't mind working with horses for a day or two." Alanna might also need to add a visit to the palace's free clinic for new servants, but only if Musenda agreed. "I help at the Goddess's clinic when I have the time, and I know that Duke Baird has brought several patients of his to work at the palace."

"Slavery's illegal, here, so any guessing what those scars mean has no recourse," George added. "I imagine that the palace's grandest stable would have drawn Roger in once or twice."

"Should be alright," Musenda said. "Introduce me as 'Sarge' and we'll be in business. That's what my cousins all called me when I had occasion to visit, and I'd hate to hear what most people here would do to the name."

It also kept his true name from drawing any repercussions to his relatives, Alanna thought, but it seemed like too much bad thinking to mention that implication. "That's easily done," Alanna said. "We can even say I met you on the street, healed you, found out you could use a place to stay... It suits me to seem naïve about the world, and if you don't mind a few days of work, I know Stefan would take someone on George's recommendation."

"Done," Sarge agreed, shaking her hand a second time. Alanna was sure that his grip was stronger than before, and was very glad that he had allowed her to heal the old wounds. They would have healed, alone, but at best he would have been left with great bands of scar tissue and at worst damage to the nerves.

Sarge walked her back to the palace. George trusted that Sarge would keep her safe, even if Alanna's practice sword looked strange in Sarge's hand. Coram had made the blunt sword for her as a model of Lightning's heft and weight, and in Alanna's hand the sword was a fast weapon well-suited for her strength. In Sarge's hand, the model of Lightning looked like a child's toy, or perhaps a cheap dagger.

Stefan happily accepted the recommendation of 'Cousin Geoffrey,' given that several friendlier horses had nuzzled Sarge as he passed them, and didn't comment that Sarge only planned to stay for a week. ('A week draws less notice than three days,' Sarge had told her as they walked through Corus. With her natural hair showing and his height alone, they had drawn all the notice they could want.)

Alanna barely slept that night, even knowing that the rescue wasn't due until the next day. George somehow smuggled himself into her room for an afternoon lesson to tire her out, so that she'd worry less. Alanna thought it was just as much to steady George's nerves, but she didn't ask. It was all for the better that both of them were calm.

Arram Draper's farce of a trial had happened that morning. Alanna had attended, as had most nobles, and from her seat beside Duke Baird she could see that the very young, very thin suspect was scared. That fear had good reason, as Duke Turomot accepted the conviction from the Carthaki court in accordance with the submitted evidence. Alanna held her tongue when the duke asked for any objections to stated claims, even knowing that Roger was lying about the boy's age. If Draper was twenty-two, she was a squire.

You'll be alright, Alanna wanted the boy to know. We'll look after you.

When George left that night, after Alanna claimed a sick headache and had dinner brought into her rooms, Alanna paced until Salma finally bullied her into bed. Not knowing would have driven Alanna to a sleepless night, but Stefan himself came to her door.

Stefan looked extremely ill at ease to be in the palace, let alone in the close quarters reserved for lady residents of the court, but he looked pleased to see her when she opened the door. "George thought you'd be up, lady." Stefan's voice was so quiet that she barely heard him from only three feet away. "He and a new friend left through the stables, he told me to say, and you're due for a last lesson in healing tomorrow afternoon at the second bell."

"Thank you, Stefan," Alanna returned, just as quietly. "It means a lot to me that you'd come all the way here to deliver the news."

Stefan looked a little surprised at the thanks, and embarrassed, but he nodded to her before hurrying away. Alanna slept well that night, secure in the knowledge that George had saved a life and gotten away with his own.

In true gallows humor, Alanna found herself very amused when a simulacra was hung the next day at high noon. It was very convincing; it even kicked and cried beforehand, a display that would have driven her to tears, but she kept a hand to her pendant throughout. Arram Draper had been grey with exhaustion and nearly drained entirely at his trial, but his core had still shone like a beacon in that courtroom, and the last traces of white sparkles through a black veil had marked his magic. The false Draper had only orange magic animating it, and no sign of a core.

Alanna headed for the stables just after lunch with Faithful on her shoulder. The cat had yowled quite loudly when she asked if he wanted to stay in her rooms, and Salma had giggled when the cat settled himself quite firmly on Alanna's shoulder. Faithful had taken that seat before, but only while reading. Still, Faithful would not be dislodged, so she set off for the stables and Moonlight.

As she had almost expected, Roger was in the stables, loitering conveniently close to Moonlight's stall.

Alanna spoke first as she swept into a pert curtsy. "Good afternoon, your grace." On her shoulder, Faithful's claws extended to rest against her skin.

"Baroness Alanna. You have been doing well, I trust." From him, those words were not a question. "We both know that Arram Draper didn't die this afternoon, I should think. I would remind you that if he is ever found alive—"

"He didn't die?" Alanna interrupted, unwilling to let him threaten Arram so easily. She hadn't even met the boy, but she still felt very protective of Eleni's latest charge. "I should have thought that 'hanging by the neck until dead' was quite conclusive."

Her eyes were glassy with innocence when his Gift tore along the surface of her mind. She hadn't realized such attacks were possible, or at least that such an attack would be so easily managed, but her Gift and the goddess's totem stood strong. "Hm. Well, perhaps he did die, but he was a mage of great power and deception. Some think him an innocent child, but I am only relieved that his treachery was discovered before his attempt on Emperor Ozorne's life succeeded. Draper was also accomplished in the arts of simulacra and shapeshifting."

"Simulacrue?" she repeated, giving no sign that she had intentionally gotten the word wrong. "You must forgive me, your grace, but I have had no instruction in magics unrelated to healing. I understand shapeshifting in theory, but I thought that was impossible."

Perhaps she had laid it on a little too thick. Roger's eyes narrowed. "As you like, Baroness, but remember that a copy of Draper died once, and any that encounter a second copy would be well-advised to not trust him."

If she hadn't known what type of man Arram was, and what kind of viper Roger was, she might have believed that drivel. "I thank you for the warning, your grace. By your leave, I have a lesson in healing magics this afternoon. I didn't do very well with the control of bleeding, I'm afraid," she lied.

"Of course." Roger looked almost disappointed, but she supposed it would be difficult to be properly evil without a little time for bragging rights.

"Do tell my brother I said hello," Alanna added sadly, feeling a burst of inspiration. Let Roger make of that what he would, but he would think he had a hold on Alanna that her friends couldn't replace. He would be wrong, but Alanna wanted Roger to think he was winning. That was one of many lessons she had learned in trying to fight George on his terms.

Roger's smile wouldn't fool anyone. Even her brother would be taken aback by the sheer malice in the expression. "But of course, Lady Alanna. I am sure he will return the greeting, in his own time."

Alanna looked dejected as the new stablehand lifted her onto her horse, but couldn't help the thrill of victory when Sarge winked at her. Sarge had already been looking out for her, and seemed destined to join her growing roster of friends and co-conspirators. Roger thought that he had a hold on her, which was for the best. She didn't want Roger searching for a hold that would genuinely take. Arram was safe, and even better, Roger had no idea how it had been done or who had helped them.

If Roger had known, he would have taken care of it instead of waiting around the stables to try threatening her.

Sarge was her escort into town. It wasn't necessary, of course, but Stefan often had a stablehand ride along with her. It helped to add to Alanna's consequence as a Book of Gold lady, officially, but truly it set the precedent for Alanna to ride with one of George's men guarding her back. Even George's rivals had grown quite fond of "Aly" after her many, many losses to George, and several of them had seen Alanna at work in the Goddess's free medicine clinic.

She did not stay at Eleni's home for more than ten minutes. Her wig was waiting for her when she arrived, along with a plain gown in a dark grey color that edged the line of full mourning. Alanna put it on without complaint, noting that it made her look less washed out. Eleni walked over to the Dancing Dove with her for a spot of lunch, and Alanna could have cheered when they walked into the bar.

Behind several rows of Corus's deadliest cutthroats, brigands, and brawlers, a young man in well-made homespun clothing was entertaining an entire bar full of thieves. Arram was truly in his element as the center of so much positive attention. He juggled seven mugs at once while Alanna ate her lunch, and by the time she had finished her lemonade, he was amusing one of the most dangerous men in George's employ with sleight-of-hand and two copper bits.

George had appeared at her side somewhere between the trick where Arram appeared to pull a gold noble from behind the man's ear and the trick where he effortlessly called out which card someone had drawn from a stack. "He's a treasure, isn't he?"

"You're the treasure," Alanna said, impulsively hugging him. "Roger's on the lookout," she murmured when George didn't pull away. "But he'll look in all the shadowy corners. He'll never think that we would be dim enough to put the boy in full view and… what do we call him, anyway?"

"I was pretty set on Salmalin as a fitting surname for the grand identity we want to create, but mother got there first. The instant we had him back last night, she fussed him into a good homecooked meal and a warm bed, and then it was George who," the thief said fondly. "He did take my suggestion on the first name, at least, said that he liked it."

"George," Alanna scolded, leaning against him even while she feigned a glare. "Go on, out with it."

"I'll introduce you later, to be proper, but the new juggler is Numair Cooper, a country cousin of mine." George hadn't let go, yet, so Alanna didn't either.

"You're wonderful," she whispered. As long as she was complimenting him, however, she had a more serious offer to make. "I told Raoul I'd give him a token, as a lark, but he's… well, I have the feeling someone else will snap him up while he's away. Besides, I'd rather have an unconventional knight."

"You're asking me to be your champion, then?" George asked. For once, she had finally surprised the thief.

Alanna smiled encouragingly. "Well… will you?"

"Of course," George said roughly, kissing her forehead in a gesture that felt like a benediction. "You'd be the first to expect honor out of a king of thieves, but I'll be your knight."

"I wouldn't want anybody else." Alanna felt the ember warm at her throat, a second benediction, and let herself be surrounded by George's arms and the sound of cheers meant for Numair Cooper.


	13. Chapter Twelve

_This is one of the last chapters without major actions, but any interested parties will find quite a bit of foreshadowing._

**Lady Lioness: Interlude **

Alanna was sure that Numair Cooper, once Arram Draper, was the best student any first-time teacher could hope to encounter. Numair knew much more about the Gift than she did, but she knew more about _using _the Gift. He wasn't very well suited to healing, as it happened, but he was delighted to work her through advanced theories about how to best craft spells without chants or even words. She often felt like he was the one teaching her, but the poor boy had little enough common sense that the illusion never lasted for long.

Arram was brilliant, but like Harailt, he was an academic at heart. Unlike Harailt, Numair wanted to learn how to interact with people that weren't academics. That was George's department, and by all accounts, it was going better than could be hoped. Numair entertained entire crowds at the Dancing Dove, and within a week there wasn't a thief that wouldn't defend him against any comer. The rogues had little enough to smile about, as Rispah had explained to 'Aly,' that any cause for laughter was to be cherished.

Rispah was one of the few rogues to know that George's protégé Aly was in fact Lady Alanna of Trebond and Olau. As Queen of the Rogue, Rispah had her own variety of power. While George oversaw all thieving and general mayhem, Rispah protected the women and men that sold their time, the community's euphemism for prostitution. Rispah was rather charmed by Alanna's newfound comfort in discussing the more academic and healing-based aspects of sex. Alanna still turned brilliantly red at any kind of practical discussion, but her new friend was never offended.

Alanna breezed through the certification on healing, and shocked the city's examiner with her frank knowledge of several carnal diseases. Alanna had taken on Rispah's court as her own personal charges, and saw more intimate diseases in a week than some healers would see in a lifetime. It was often uncomfortable, and several times awkward, but Rispah was present for every last one of those healings. Her presence always soothed things over, and Alanna gradually gained confidence with the most exotic of cases.

On one of Coram's rare trips to the Dancing Dove, he caught Rispah's eye. Suddenly, Coram found reasons to replace Sarge as her typical escort. Sarge came to the Dove on his own, as it happened, but he preferred to retire from direct espionage work in favor with working with Stefan and the pages. The pages had been lacking a riding instructor, and it showed. Within two weeks of his arrival, Sarge had all of them in hand to no objections from the last duke of Conté. If Roger recognized Musenda as a Carthaki ex-slave, he gave no sign.

There were no open hostilities from Roger, a relief in the face of some of the most peaceful weeks of Alanna's life. She kept up her lessons with George, losing nine of ten bouts of her sword against his knives, but steadily turning her losses into close finishes. Numair studied with her in the afternoons at Eleni's home, when he wasn't amusing the rogues of Corus with any new trick he could manage.

With her new friendship with Gary, his renewed interest in Cythera, and Cythera's new approval of Gary, Alanna was pleased to be sure two friends would become a permanent item. Cythera's calm grace was a good counter to Gary's enthusiastic outbursts, and he had even matured his language to something more befitting a duke and a suitor. Alanna was sure that they would end up together, but the pair of them were enjoying a leisurely courtship.

She might have missed Gary's company if not for the great deal of work that went into organizing her allies in keeping tabs on Roger. Sarge had kept himself to observations on Roger's interactions with the pages, Myles was paying attention to the politics of the court, George had his most trusted agents scouring the city, and Eleni divined what little signs she could find. All the while, Alanna had Raoul's letters to read aloud to Eleni, Numair, and George.

Raoul had taken to the Great Southern Desert with an unexpected zeal. He had charmed the Sunset Dragon's ally tribe, the Sleeping Lion, and had arranged an escort for Kara to reach Persopolis. From there, a group of Rispah's ladies would bring Kara to Eleni's house as yet another Gifted adolescent in need of nurturing.

Most interesting, however, was the fast spread of Raoul's new story. He was quickly gaining status within Corus's lords and ladies, and with him the Bazhir gained a new status. It seemed that his reputation had spread to Saren, as a lady of some standing had appealed to Raoul for asylum. Raoul had agreed, of course, and had written that he would be returning to Corus briefly after providing the lady with an escort by way of the Sunset Dragon tribe.

Roger remained quiet, from what Alanna's observers could see, but he was far from quiescent. Duke Baird became the latest of Alanna's allies when Roger was arrogant enough to think that Baird would meekly accept a threat to his infant son. Baird had paced Myles' office for twenty straight minutes as Alanna held his child, a green-eyed babe that peered at her solemnly the whole while. Baird had thought Myles to be the head of the group slowly gathering against Roger, but recovered from his surprise gracefully to promise Alanna his help.

Word of her little group was spreading too fast, perhaps, because the very next day Ilane of Mindelan came to her. The white-haired woman was far younger than Alanna had guessed from afar, and had not been at court due to a tricky pregnancy. Alanna hadn't the faintest idea just how many children Lady Ilane planned to have, but from all rumors the latest would be far from the last. Ilane was not fond of Roger, as it happened, and was quite interested in Alanna of Trebond and Olau.

It was almost a relief to find that she wasn't universally popular. Alex of Tirragen scowled at the sight of her, thanks to her brother's selection as Roger's squire, and Ralon of Malven despised anyone more popular than he was. Both men kept their dislike to distrustful glances, but those small aggressions all took place under Roger's eye. It would be useful for him to underestimate just how far her reach was growing.

Rispah's escort arrived with Kara in tow just two weeks after Raoul's letter. Kara had kept her veil, for modesty, and made quite the impression when introduced formally to the nearly silent crowd at the Dancing Dove. They didn't realize that her plain outfit was a sign of her low rank, or that her flimsy and unadorned veil had once marked her as an outcast. They saw her as one of Lady Alanna's protected students, and by extension someone under George's highest protections. They took the veil as a sign of mystery, not a reason to ostracize her.

Marek, as it happened, was especially struck by the dark eyes above the veil. He visited Eleni's home often with small trinkets and friendly words, and the slow, deliberate courtship was gradually making remarkable progress on Kara's self-esteem. Watching the two of them, George would whistle a jaunty tune and start plotting for the next Queen and King of Thieves, with Rispah's imminent retirement to stay with Coram at the palace and George's own goals to not be the king of thieves forevermore.

Five weeks after Numair Cooper's rescue from execution, and in the heart of winter, Roger formally invited Alanna to take tea with him the next day. Alanna accepted, to hold off any worse attempts to have her attention, and was sure that this would be the last of Roger's friendlier attempts. He wouldn't be fool enough to poison her tea, and wouldn't invite her to such an event with open threats in mind, so it seemed she would have one more opportunity to see just what Roger planned to do.

She had thought that Roger would delay his plans in light of another meeting, but she was wrong. She had made one of the largest miscalculations yet in her predictions of what Roger would do when. George came to her rooms that night, looking as frantic as she had ever seen him. He pulled her into a rough embrace, and didn't seem inclined to let her go. "I'll be staying in the palace. Stefan passed on your message about that meeting with Roger, and this isn't the time to trust him."

"Is there ever a time to trust Roger?" Alanna asked, slowly rubbing the thief's back. Something had spooked him, badly, and George wasn't the type to be scared.

"Never, but this is worse than the usual," George said quietly, speaking into her hair. "I'm afraid we've worse news than Roger having a poison tongue. I wish that I had a better time t' tell you, lass, but there's no use in delayin' the tale of what's already done.

"Roger made his move, Alanna. King Roald is dead."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

_Please note: the cliffhangers will continue unless I hear feedback that they are unappreciated. Consider this your warning for this chapter's ending.  
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**Lady Lioness: Chapter Thirteen **

Alanna had been stunned to hear that King Roald was dead, after so little warning and with no whisper of intent, but Duke Roger was not done surprising her. When she arrived to their afternoon tea, wearing her second-best black dress and carrying George's lucky throwing knife in her reticule, they were not alone. The table was set for three, and her brother was sitting in the third chair.

"Good afternoon, your Grace," Alanna said with a perfect curtsy, keeping to better manners this time. Roger would not get the better of her again. "Good afternoon, brother."

Thom looked very much as if he wanted to be anywhere else, which only firmed her resolve to be the ideal guest for such a small gathering. Her opinion wasn't helped by the rich color of Thom's tunic, a sharp departure from mourning. "Hello, sister dear. Let's not draw this out, please." He gestured toward her chair. Duke Roger had risen to his feet on Alanna's entrance to his opulent sitting room, and sat only after Alanna had swept her skirts around her chair.

"Thom sees little need for our games, my lady," Roger said regretfully. "Perhaps you would be kind enough to pour the tea?"

"Of course, your grace," Alanna replied sweetly, following his lead easily. They did understand each other, at least, and she was almost fond of him as an enemy. Whatever evils he might wreak, the man had style. She poured the tea without spilling a drop, and furthermore every action had been carried out with a casual grace that would make Sister Emmarie sigh in contentment. "I am sorry you don't enjoy our little discussions, brother. I have always found them very illuminating."

"Roger agreed that I should be the one to tell you, sister, so I'll do it my way." There was a sulky inflection to 'sister' that she didn't like, but Thom left her no room to interrupt. "You know that Father won't be around for much longer, and that Father wants to see you married. My lord seems to think that you'd like being a queen."

"I am very sorry to hear of the king's demise," Alanna said carefully, her eyes locked on Roger's. George's description of a snake had never seemed more apt. Roger was waiting calmly, for all the world like he hadn't just allowed his student and squire to make a proposal on Roger's behalf. "I do congratulate your grace on your likely ascension to the throne, but I have no such ambitions. I plan to finish my year of mourning before courting." Her mother's death might be the only thing that could entirely protect her from Roger's plan without a wedding of her own.

"I would be prepared to wait for such a gem as yourself, Alanna."

If he would be so informal, then she would respond in kind. "I could not possibly accept, Roger. I haven't the temperament to be a queen." It was a relief to set their usual games aside and speak directly. Perhaps that was Thom's influence.

"I do not require an answer today, Alanna, but I will ask again at my coronation." Roger's voice was smooth as poured honey, but there was malice beneath the words for any with the mind to listen. "I suggest you strongly consider my offer. Your friends would be quite safe with you as their vanguard."

"I am sure that I do not comprehend your meaning, your grace. I thank you for the tea." Alanna rose, feeling foreboding raising the hairs on the nape of her neck. Something was very wrong, from the glimmer of dark mischief in Roger's eyes, and it would not be something that would hurt _him_. "Brother, I am pleased to see you well." Let Roger look at the tension between her and her sibling and accept that as his token for the day. Let Roger think that Thom was the wedge that would bring her closer to him.

"Consider my offer, Alanna," Roger warned.

Any earlier half-approving thoughts about Roger's style had vanished in face of the fear that he would hurt her friends. Eleni had done nothing wrong, and Myles was harmless to Roger's goals. Knight that he was, Myles would be hard-pressed to act against his future king. Arram was a boy, still, but the whispers knew that Roger destroyed the young mages not marching under his banner.

"I would appreciate a mage of your strength to bear my children, as well as a woman of such vibrant spirit and allies." Roger turned even that compliment into a subtle threat. "Your friends are lucky to have you."

Thom, at least, did not understand the new undercurrent. He looked to his knightmaster for the answer, but Roger was waiting for Alanna's reply.

"I feel that the opposite is true, your grace. I have been lucky in my friends."

"They all would be safe under your protection, Alanna." Roger's promises were terrible. "Even your pet thief. With a pardon and a paltry little oath in his blood, he would be allowed to serve as your personal guard."

George. Roger had done something to George, when the thief had been staying in the palace to watch over her. "I must consider your offer." For the first time, Alanna was in danger of losing her composure with Roger there to watch her.

"Of course, milady." Roger rose again, as if he would escort her to the door, and his mask fell. If she had not already been afraid for George, that expression would have dropped all of her defenses at once. Somehow, despite all of her plots and all of her plans, she had forgotten that Roger was not just a power-hungry noble. Roger just might be evil.

Roger's voice was still pleasant, for all that he was a monster. "I would think that such an offer would merit a return to your chambers to consider such a weighty proposal. I have left a gift for your perusal."

Alanna sprinted through the hallway, propriety forgotten in face of the new threat. Halfway to her rooms, Faithful met her at a run. She followed her yowling cat to her rooms, for once sure that Faithful was speaking to her. _He needs you! _Faithful said, as if Alanna hadn't known. Alanna threw open the door to her room, leaving Salma to hastily lock her chambers behind her.

George was a mess of wounds, cuts, and blood, but he was alive. He was also alert enough to look irritated and embarrassed all at once. "They were careful to not cut away too much. I'd been in the stables to find Stefan, and there were a dozen men in close quarters," he explained as Alanna unleashed a flood of violet magic. She clutched at her ember pendant as she worked, following the small trace of orange rapidly disappearing from his feet.

"Roger was tracking you," Alanna said absently, following the last of the cuts until they healed without scars. Not one of the wounds had been meant as a fatal blow, but all of them together might have crippled him. Several deep cuts had traveled all too close to nerves that never took well to healing. "How did you get back to my rooms?"

"I wasn't followed, and clever to ask." George flexed his left hand carefully. The back of it had been sliced badly enough that he has nearly lost the smallest finger. "Sarge was on-hand. He smuggled me in on some pretense, Kyprioth knows what he said to get his hands on that laundry cart."

Salma said nothing, but she and George had a silent exchange in that next moment. The maid had been looking on for the entire healing, and she was the one to move a chair behind Alanna's knees and firmly push her to a sitting position. "I'll get you something to eat, Alanna, and you'll stay put until you've had something. I also should tell Myles to go visit his lady, I'd think? Mistress Cooper should know."

"Thank you, Salma." Alanna was too tired to muster the necessary gratefulness, but Salma cared little for such formalities. "George, we have more to think about than Roger giving me an object lesson. He proposed to me."

George scowled, but didn't look surprised. "You're a powerful mage, lass, and he'd think that your brother could be a strong attraction. I imagine he promised safety to all if you would?"

"He made some offer of keeping you as a personal guard… if you would sign a blood oath."

"Figured as much." George still looked put out to have been caught, even if it had been twelve unexpected men in Stefan's stables. "Stefan is well, at least, but Roger near lamed a horse to keep the man away. Sarge was expecting some manner of trickery, and the man said it's payback for my little help in his self-exile."

"Roger hurt you." Alanna would wash her hands free of the blood later, because she had far more important things to consider. "Roger made his point, George. There's no reason for our side to hold back when he's ready to attack anyone under his own terms. We let him have his coronation, as he'll expect interference and be ready to defend himself, but we start a campaign now to undermine him." She was speaking out loud as she thought, and took heart from George's approving nod. "I have an alternative candidate in mind. Gareth of Naxen has nearly the same credentials, and he's quite the mature fellow of late. He and Lady Cythera are a good match, and Roger does have the weakness there.

"Roger still thinks he can bully me into being his queen, and he _does _need a queen. People know the throne is unstable, now, and they'll want heirs as soon as humanly possible."

"None of us would tell you to take that option." George's laughing eyes were entirely solemn. "I'd die first, lass, before I saw you shackled to that man. Don't think any of your friends are much changed from me."

Alanna's eyes were starting to water, but her hands were bloody enough that it wasn't worth wiping away the excess moisture. George was the one to reach over and blot the tears away with clean bandaging. "Thanks," she whispered, and it wasn't for the improvised handkerchief.

"Anytime," George promised.

Alanna allowed herself one more sniffle for the close call before drawing herself up to her full height. It wasn't much, but it was what she had to work with. "Faithful?" she called. The cat leapt neatly into her lap, for all that he would spend hours later grooming the tacky blood out from his fur. Salma wasn't back yet with a meal, and she trusted George as much as she trusted herself. Alanna scratched behind the cat's ears with her cleanest two fingers.

Faithful purred against her hand, letting her calm down from the shock of seeing George so hurt. None of the wounds had been serious, but any one of them could have drawn an infection.

"I'm glad that it was all things that I could help, George." Somehow, it had seemed easier to shift over beside him on the couch, and a little more blood hardly hurt when he put his arm around her shoulders. She certainly wouldn't wear the dress again after Roger's unexpected proposal.

Of everything, even with King Roald's death and George's injuries, Thom's last betrayal hurt the most. He couldn't be entirely innocent to Roger's plans, she was sure.

Alanna was right.

On the other side of the castle, Roger demonstrated a spell for the final time. A small flick of his wrist resulted in the barely-perceptible sound of a knife grating against stone. A moment later, a shred of cloth fell from the edge of Thom's sleeve.

"It's quite easy, Thom." Roger caught the shred of cloth easily to show its clean edges. "It cuts human hair just as well, and you know women. She'll come to line when she's presented with a properly romantic token."

Thom studied his sleeve as a pretense to avoid eye contact. Roger always seemed to know what he was thinking, and Thom was starting to think it was no coincidence, and that several of their 'academic' exercises had been nothing of the sort. Even now, he could feel the dull pressure to obey that went far beyond loyalty to a knightmaster.

Thom made the motion slowly, watching as the strip of cloth separated from the rest. When he was sure of his technique, he repeated the trick several times until the feel of it was natural. When Thom's small cantrip suited even Roger's exacting standards, he retired to his room on the pretense of finishing an potential article.

Instead, he sat at his desk with his head in his hands and wondered just when he had become his sister's worst enemy.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_Characters' reactions to other characters may be dramatically different, as before, and the characters' reactions are not my own._

**Lady Lioness: Chapter Fourteen**

After the previous day's events, Alanna didn't make even a token protest when Coram fetched her new bodyguard from the Lower City. George was far too conspicuous for Duke Roger's imminent coronation, even if he didn't have all of Corus's Rogues to look after. Coram had his post with the Guard, but after the previous events, he was entirely in favor of extra protection than he and Sir Myles could provide. Myles, Coram, and George all wanted measures taken to keep Alanna safe. The three of them together had appointed her new bodyguard.

For the first and perhaps only time of her life, Alanna was happy to have embroidery to distract herself. Raoul had written that he would reach Corus in the next few days, so she was planning to present him with the silken handkerchief as a gift. She was monogramming it with an elaborate 'A' that Sister Yvette wouldn't be able to fault, and she was also ignoring the other occupant of her plain little sitting room. The two matched armchairs were plush, for all that they were a dingy shade of blue, and the little fire in the brazier kept her from feeling any chill.

Some of George's court had guessed that the black-haired girl with violet eyes was also George's latest noble friend, but for the rest, she was popular as both 'Aly' and 'Lady Alanna.' She had grown used to the casual way that thieves and flower-sellers would tease Aly and joke with Lady Alanna, but not one member of the Court of Thieves had outright propositioned her. They also hadn't called her 'kitten.'

If Liam Ironarm called her by that silly nickname one more time, she was going to punch him, Shang Dragon or not.

Before he had the opportunity, Salma rapped at the sitting room's door. "There isn't enough room for more visitors here, lady, but you've a guest waiting in the receiving room near the stables. Guests, as it happens, but Sir Raoul is the only one you would know."

Alanna let her embroidery fall to the side of her chair without hesitation. "Let's go add to my guard for the coronation, shall we?" Alanna was too excited to hold Liam's earlier offer against him. He probably had expected a warmer reception, with his looks and with that reputation, but he hadn't been interested in her. Perhaps he had liked her looks well enough, but he couldn't have known enough about her within four minutes to know that he'd want her as a temporary lover.

Liam didn't answer, but from his smile, he didn't hold her earlier reticence against her. "George will be happy to know you've another ally within the palace, Alanna. Neither of us expects a direct affront, but we don't want Roger sneaking a proposal by you."

Alanna scowled in remembrance. Roger's proposal had happened just two nights before, and she never would forget seeing George covered in his own blood. She also would never forgive the duke, soon to be the king. If Roger had meant to intimidate her, he had failed. George had been the first to say that he would die before having her accept an offer she wouldn't want, and she couldn't do anything but believe him. "Quite. As a matter of fact, should he ask me again—"

"I imagine you'd be quite a bit more frank," a very familiar voice said from his place in an alcove. Thom stepped into the light with a much more sympathetic expression than she had grown used to seeing in her three months in the palace. "Hello, sister."

Her brother had been waiting for her. She supposed the entire palace had known of Raoul's arrival, with his recent fame, so it was no great surprise that Thom would know where to intercept her. The surprise was that he would care to do so. "Hello, Thom. I haven't changed my mind, if that's what you wanted to know."

"That isn't it," Thom said dismissively, but without the heat she would have expected. "Roger didn't tell me he was going to propose to you." Even with the newfound sympathy, Thom's irritation with his knightmaster still won out.

"I don't blame you, Thom, and I don't blame you for what came after. I suppose he told you what his men did to my friend?" Alanna's tone was deceptively mild, but Thom knew the signs of her temper, even when her temper was mostly under control.

"Afterward, yes. I don't like that it came to bloodhed between the two of you, Alanna."

"I didn't draw blood, Thom, but I imagine that the point has been made. His grace and I simply have a disagreement in philosophy." Alanna was very conscious of Liam's continued interest in the conversation, but she would have responded the same even with no one else present.

"That's what they call it now?" Thom turned away, but she could see the clenching of his jaw. "Alanna, this is dangerous. You need to stop."

"I don't know what you mean, Thom." Alanna was too used to the game with Roger, so it was all too easy to keep her voice pleasant. "Like any Tortallan, I will be loyal to my king."

Thom's time with Roger had sharpened his perception. "But Roger will never be your king." This time, Thom's disappointment was with her, and it stung that he still would take his knightmaster's side in everything. "I'm sorry, Alanna, but he will be the rightful king by the third bell."

"And you will remain his loyal squire. I won't ask you to go against him, Thom." She already knew what her brother's answer would be.

To her surprise, instead of insisting that he would never betray Roger, he pulled her into an embrace. "I know, sister mine." There was some odd inflection to 'mine,' a gravelly sound that made her want to reach for her ember pendant even with her brother in the way, but the strange sound didn't return. "I hope you can forgive me."

"Thom?" She pulled away, the better to attempt reading his expression. Once, her twin had been an open book.

Her brother stepped back, no discernible expression on his face. He was trying to keep calm, but she knew him. His left hand was curled into a fist, a sure sign that he was upset. "I'll see you at the coronation, Alanna."

Liam let out a low whistle as Thom vanished around a corner. "Little wonder George called in a favor, milady. I thought you were just the latest noble pet of his."

"I'm sure that I don't know what you mean," Alanna said coolly, already resuming her walk to the receiving chamber.

"They're not all so toothsome, of course, those nobles George takes on for a lark. The last noble he took on was a potbellied old scholar of a knight twice George's age at the least."

Alanna's glare made the Shang Dragon take an involuntary step away. Later, she would learn that it was because of the Gift that had flared up around her at the insult to a dear friend. "That scholar would be my adopted father, Sir Myles of Olau."

Liam looked taken aback, and perhaps a little apologetic, but she had nothing else to say until she saw her friend silhouetted against one of the receiving room's windows. "Raoul!" she yelled, ignoring decorum in favor of running over to him.

"Alanna!" He picked her up bodily and spun her around so quickly that her petticoats fluttered away to show quite a bit of ankle. Raoul's hands were as gentle as he was, and just as big, when he carefully set her back on the floor. "You're quite the legend among the Bazhir, I'm afraid. The past Voice of the Bazhir was a good friend of Sir Myles, of course, so as soon as Sir Myles adopted somebody, they wanted to know about you."

"The Voice?" she asked.

"I don't know if I can describe what the Voice is like, but it's like you're nothing and everything at the same time when you see him. I let the Voice see you, through my eyes, and his approval's enough." Raoul's tone might be light, but the look in his eyes was serious. "The Bazhir call you a lioness, Alanna, and they would fight for you if you asked."

Her friend was an entirely new shade, tanned from his time living in the deserts, and there was a new peace to him as well. She blushed faintly at the words, but she was almost used to the way that people would rally around her without any request on her part. "I've missed you, Raoul."

"I liked having your letters, Alanna, and the part where you kept Gary out of trouble. I never did manage to make that happen, but—look at me talking to you and ignoring my guests," Raoul said, nodding to the two women Alanna hadn't even noticed.

One was a solid woman with her hair braided tightly away from her face, and with an old wariness to her eyes that made Alanna think of Trebond's townspeople after another attack by bandits. The other woman, bathed in sunlight and wearing a battered, clean dress of homespun linen, was beautiful enough that Alanna couldn't help but stare. The woman's skin was white as lilies, but her hair was the complete opposite, and fell into luxurious waves of black even fresh after riding horseback to reach the palace. The brilliantly hazel eyes and perfect red lips were enough to make Alanna feel something like self-consciousness, but that faded when the woman chuckled quietly.

"My mother was prettier," the woman said, and even her voice was beautiful with a teasing lilt that felt nothing like mockery. "I appealed to Sir Raoul for an escort before Sarain's situation became untenable, and my mother was very pleased to see me go safely."

Raoul cleared his throat. "Sorry, Alanna, she has that effect on just about everybody. Anyway. Lady Alanna of Trebond and Olau, Lioness of the Bazhir tribes, may I introduce Princess Thayet _jian _Wilima, Duchess of Cama and Thanhyien, called 'Thayet the Peerless,' and her peerless bodyguard, Buriram Tourakom of the K'miri Hau Ma."

Alanna had a quick enough temper to be generous so soon after Liam's ill-fated remark about Myles. "I also should introduce Liam Ironarm."

"The Shang Dragon," Raoul said, with a new sharpness to his eyes that had replaced an absent-minded acceptance. "George found us on our way in to say that he wanted Alanna looked after, but I hadn't realized we were quite so serious."

"I was in town," Liam said self-effacingly, with a good-natured shrug that made Alanna like the man more. "Good to see you again, Raoul. You've been working on speed?"

"I'm still no match for you, Liam." Raoul slapped Liam's shoulder in a universal male version of hello. "From what I hear, if you want any competition that isn't George, you should pick up a sword and go visit Lady Alanna here. Gary said that she's beating him one bout in two, and he was the best aside from Alex of Tirragen to come out of Sklaw's training for years."

Liam glanced at Alanna with a new appreciation. "Is that so? I apologize for earlier assumptions, milady, but you do keep your secrets."

Alanna glanced to the two women for their reactions. Thayet was curious, but Buri looked approving. "From what little I've heard, you'll need to defend yourself," the K'mir woman said.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that." Alanna toyed with her ember pendant, scanning for magic and finding no trace. "You'll be pleased to hear that his grace and I are getting along, Raoul. He even saw fit to propose to me two days ago."

Raoul needed a visible effort to keep his composure. "Did he now. You refused, I would imagine, since you announce a proposal instead of a marriage?"

"I am still in mourning." Alanna might have continued in that vein for longer, but the coronation was coming up all too soon. "Mistress Tourakom, Princess Thayet, would you care to freshen up before the coronation? It begins in two bells, and I am sure my maid would be happy to work with someone that isn't dressed entirely in black."

That was how Alanna ended up getting ready for a grand fete with other women for the first time in her life. She enjoyed the unexpected camaraderie, and within half of an hour Thayet had gone from an intimidating paragon of womanliness to the sharp-humored woman that had already dismissed all titles. Thayet borrowed one of the dresses Alanna had inherited from her mother, a dark green gown that would never have looked so well with Alanna's hair, while Buri (as she preferred to be called) stayed with her own outfit. Buri chatted with Liam while Thayet bathed the last traces of dirt and grime from her person, and the two of them quickly made friends speaking about weapons and fighting and terrain.

When it came time for the coronation, Raoul in his vibrant green and gold livery was the one to escort Alanna to the coronation. She wore her fourth-best black dress, but also wore black pearl eardrops that George had given her as a present. (He had included a full bill of sale with the pearls, with his mother listed as the purchaser.) Liam trailed along behind them, effortlessly fitting in with the nobles in their finery as he remained in his simpler dress.

Buri took a position with the rest of the palace guards when Thayet made her entrance to the Hall of Kings without an escort. The world-weary herald nearly stammered as he announced Thayet with her full titles, and even Roger looked surprised to find a princess of such caliber at his coronation. His reaction was much what Alanna had expected, blandly charming, but she found Thom's reaction much more amusing.

Her brother had nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw Thayet, by the starstruck look on his face. That expression was mirrored by nearly every man in the hall and several of the ladies, but Alanna only had eyes for her brother's shock.

The coronation proceeded just as Alanna had expected, and she saw nearly nothing worth remembering. Roger had left no flaws in his guard, and the men nearest to him were very apparently devoted to his safety. Thom was on hand throughout the ceremony, leaving Alanna with a focal point to study. There had been something very odd in her exchange with Thom earlier, though she couldn't imagine what it had been.

She puzzled on that through the afternoon, even as Raoul invited her to meet with Gary in the library. The three of them chatted about the latest political situation in Carthak, but only Alanna knew that Ozorne was prematurely satisfied to hear of Arram Draper's death at the hands of Tortall. She trusted Raoul and Gary, but the secret of Numair Cooper's true identity was best kept to only a few people. Even Marek thought that Numair was another slave rescued from Carthak by George's quiet influence on Carthaki politics, and that was deemed a fine solution by Eleni and Numair both.

Gary escorted Cythera to the ball, and the two of them were nearly impossible at dinner. Alanna and Raoul spent all of the meal talking to each other, as Gary and Cythera had little use for anyone else. Thayet had been led to the high table, but a fast bit of maneuvering on her part had made it impossible to seat her near Roger. She modestly took the seat beside Thom's, saying that she could not possibly usurp the king's own squire on such a day. Roger had that small trace of irritation visible, that he had not successfully controlled a situation, but Thom's response was nearly comical. Her coldly self-assured brother acted like a gawky teenager in response to Thayet's polite questions, and it made Alanna pleased beyond measure to know that such things as awkwardness hadn't been lost to Roger's glib charm.

Alanna missed George when it was time for dancing. 'Aly' had done several country dances with George at the Dancing Dove, when they stacked tables and chairs to leave room at the center, and it felt like the careful rhythm of sparring against a close friend. Raoul was sweet, but he hated balls and fancy occasions, and he thought of her as his little sister. There wasn't any passion to the dancing. Alanna danced with him before dismissing him to the library, and a brief chat with Liam and Buri left the K'mir free to escape the formal dance. Buri had decided that Liam would be protection enough when Thayet was waltzing in the arms of a very strong mage.

Thom and Thayet danced together only twice, but Alanna saw Roger's reactions. He was frustrated to see Thayet's affect on Thom, but also looked angry that Thayet had cut him twice when he moved to offer her a dance. Once she had politely insisted that her feet were tired after the long journey there, and once she had already accepted Thom's offer. Thayet did accept Roger's third request for a dance, but Roger had already deemed Thayet an unsuitable candidate for his affections.

Alanna found Thom at the edge of the ballroom, watching rather wistfully as Duke Baird danced with Thayet to one of the trickier patterns. "Did you recognize mother's dress, Thom?"

"I knew it looked familiar, but it's been years," Thom said. For once, he wasn't on his guard. "I miss her, Alanna. She'd always send the best care packages, even if she never visited."

"Father hated court, Thom," Alanna reminded him. "She loved father too much to stay here, and she never was strong enough for the ride." Marinie had been, once, but the birth of her twins had nearly taken her life. Everyone felt lucky that the lady of Trebond had only been left with weakness of her legs.

"I know. It's just something I told myself so that I could be angry instead of sad. Anger is stronger." Thom looked as if he didn't believe his own words."

"There's nothing weak in mourning, Thom. I'll admit that a full year feels like too much, sometimes, but there's an old-fashioned sort of honor in saying how important she was, and how much she'll be missed."

They never had talked about her mother in the stilted teas and the few conversations in the hallway. The moment had never been right. "I wish we were on the same side, Alanna, but we're not. Even with mother's death. You could do something to help her, and I was too afraid to see her die."

The confession seemed to be all that Thom had needed to pour out everything he had been holding away from her for years. "You're a healer, Alanna, so I don't think you'll ever understand what it's like to have so much Gift and no good outlet. I can already transmute the elements, and I've done the written examinations for my mastery. I've kept that quiet, but as soon as I'm knighted, I can stop the pretense of being a fighter and become a great mage. I already have my trial planned out, for what I can do, and I can finally stop people from laughing at me." Thom scowled for a long moment, as if recounting every instance of laughter.

"You would've been the better knight," he finished unexpectedly. "You've always worked, even when you hated it, and I know I was a laughingstock all through being a page. I was until Roger chose me, and he saved me." Thom looked as if he couldn't stand to not be believed. "He chose me, Alanna, out of everybody, and he made me special. I wasn't just one of forty or even one of two."

Alanna tried to hold it back, but it hurt that her brother would give so many reasons instead of staying with her. "I wouldn't mind still being one of two, Thom, the way that we were before."

"It can't go back to the way it was," Thom said, but he sounded hesitant.

"It could be better." Alanna knew it was risky, when Roger was such an influence, but Thom was her brother. "I love you, Thom, and nothing could change that."

Instead of looking relieved, Thom looked suspicious. Alanna looked away, not wanting to see that old guilty expression that meant that Thom had done exactly what his accuser had said. "You shouldn't, sister mine."

"That's not how love works, Thom." Alanna stood, feeling very alone even with her brother just two feet away. "I'm sorry you don't feel the same."

When Alanna walked away, Thom made no move to stop her or to tell her she was wrong.

She made her excuses to Myles, who looked entirely too knowing, and politely demurred Baird's offer of a checkup. Alanna suspected she did look ill, but it wasn't with anything that magic could cure. When she finally reached her rooms, Salma took one look before ordering Alanna into a hot bath and then into bed, but it wasn't anything that could be fixed with comfort or sleep.

Thom wasn't going to stay a neutral party in her little battles with Roger. Thom was going to be fighting against her.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

_I have two important exams tomorrow, so naturally my mind decided that writing this chapter was far more important than focusing on schoolwork. Several nuances of Copper Isles history are my own creation, comments on the new details are welcome.  
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**Lady Lioness: Chapter Fifteen **

Even when Thayet was infuriated enough to spit out K'mir curses, she was still the most beautiful woman Alanna had ever seen.

Alanna, being sensible, had retreated to the edge of her room to work on her embroidery for the second day in a row. She wanted to stay out of Thayet's way without entirely leaving the princess. Buri had also taken a post near the wall, but she was sharpening a wicked-looking knife that George would be sure to admire. Salma had left the room to find tea ('or maybe something stronger,' Salma had confided in a whisper). As little as Alanna liked alcohol for its taste and its effect on her Gift, perhaps this would be an appropriate use. It did calm some people down, but Alanna didn't want to risk the slight chance that it might make Thayet all the angrier.

When Thayet had her fill of pacing and cursing, she took the empty chair next to Alanna with an embarrassed air. "I suppose you think I'm being oversensitive."

"If the man I had a wonderful tea with threw me over for Delia, believe me. I wouldn't be nearly so restrained," Alanna said honestly. Her monogramming of the handkerchief had quickly evolved into an elaborate border of gardenias.

"It isn't as if I've set out to court someone before." Thayet's anger had cooled into something much quieter. "I do suppose that it would be shallow to focus on looks, but I can't help it. That's all that boys cared about before."

"We all need to be a little petty sometimes, Thayet, or we'd be petty constantly and just deny it." Alanna set her embroidery frame aside, now that Thayet was in the mood to talk to someone who was actually in the room. "I am sorry about what happened, but I can promise you it's not entirely as it seems. Delia has been carrying a torch for Roger since her debut. I saw the look on Roger's face when you danced with Thom last night."

"You really think…"

"I know, Thayet," Alanna promised. "Roger told Delia to take care of this, and off she went." Delia would do anything Roger wanted, which was all the more disturbing when it involved Alanna's always-obnoxious brother. "Be careful, though, because you don't want to get Thom back only to have Roger after you. I imagine that if you waited a little, my brother might become available." That probably would require Roger's death. There was no way she could trust any prison to hold him.

Regicide was a terribly easy thing to plan. Somehow, an assassination alone seemed too easy, even if George did control some of the best cutthroats in the business. Roger was too powerful for such a venture, and Alanna couldn't send someone to die in the attempt. Poison had a similarly negative connotation, even with George's band, and that left few options for just how she was to depose him. He had too many allies and too much power for a mere court trial to be enough.

"I won't have you hurt," Alanna said several long moments later. She knew that Roger wouldn't be so gentle a second time. The attack on George had been a warning, but a retaliation against Thayet would do all that it could to destroy the looks that had captured Thom's attention. Sometimes, Alanna hated the part of her that could predict just how Roger might think, but it was undeniably necessary when dealing with a madman.

Thayet hesitated, but Buri was far more direct. "Alanna. What are you planning?"

"The two of you have enough trouble here, Buri."

"The two of us have your close friend to thank for our safety, Lady Alanna. Should you need us…" Thayet gave the effortless impression of curtsying, though both she and Alanna were seated. "My title is of no use here without being formally granted asylum by Roger. I will take your direction, I think, or I shall drive Buri to distraction with the irritation of losing the first boy I wanted to keep."

"I don't understand that at all," Alanna admitted. "I don't mean that as an offense to your tastes, but my brother is far from the friendliest of men."

Thayet propped her chin in her hand as she thought, taking her time to choose the correct words. "I suppose it is that difference that I like. He is sweet with me, when not distracted by Roger or by Delia or by who he thinks he ought to be. Everyone has thought that he had only one path, and that path never was supposed to involve me.

"He is stubborn, yes, and can be rude, but he's intelligent and thoughtful. He isn't so distracted with looks that he resorts to subterfuge to win me to his bed. Beyond that—he has potential," Thayet decided, finally finding what she truly meant to convey. "He is someone right now, but he's going to change, soon, and I'd rather have him changing for the better. Delia and Roger might like the worse version, but I want him to be better than the unhappy man that he is."

Alanna was entirely taken aback at someone seeing so much in her stubborn brother, and something in her melted at just that moment. If anyone was to have her brother, she wanted it to be Thayet. "Well," she said, wondering what else there was to say than 'I want you be my sister-in-law.' "You've convinced me, then. Our first step will be to see what Roger really wants, with Delia keeping Thom occupied."

"Beyond keeping Thayet away?" Buri asked. "I imagine Delia would keep Thom out of trouble, and into a trouble of her own. Rumor in the servants says that Delia's all but pulling her skirts off just two hours later."

Alanna grimaced, knowing just whose direction that would have been. Her brother was rather shy, but Roger was not, and neither was Delia. "Delia knows she won't be queen, but I suppose she would content herself with being the king's mistress."

Thayet's expression was much the same as if Alanna had pronounced that Delia was a serial murderer and a kicker of kittens. "All I did was dance with him! We had tea his morning, but that hardly is the occasion to get to tumbling in less than a day."

Alanna kept her hand to her pendant, a recent habit when discussing anything inflammatory. "Roger likes control nearly as much as he likes himself. Thom is his squire, he'll prefer that Thom is in Delia's hands so long as Roger pulls Delia's strings. What I want to know is Roger's lists of alternatives for his queen. He will need one with the country so disjointed, and he cannot force me to cut my mourning short." She left unsaid that there were many old, forgotten laws with which a king could take his chosen spouse from any of his fiefs.

"The international gossip is that Roger is a friend to the Rittevon house," Buri said unexpectedly. "I was talking to George and Raoul about political gossip, and the name Josiane came up."

"Isn't she insane?" Thayet asked politely.

"Most of the Rittevon line is mad, I think," Alanna replied, already recalculating just what Roger might have in mind. Most of the Rittevon line had also infuriated George's patron god, which could only work in Alanna's favor. "At least one in a generation is so obviously insane that they require being locked away, and all early indicators say that Josiane will be that candidate."

"I heard it's a curse." Buri hadn't said nearly so much the day before, but Alanna supposed that she hadn't proved herself to the fierce tribeswoman. "K'mir legend says that when the luarin went to the Copper Isles, Mithros and the Great Mother listened to the prayers of their people. They banished the god of the Copper Isles."

Alanna frowned, thinking of all that she had learned of the Copper Isles. The amount was far less than she had known about Carthak. "There were already people living there," Alanna remembered, wondering why it had never seemed so important before.

"The raka," Buri agreed. "Their god was forced to leave them, in presence, but it's said that Kyprioth helps what inbreeding doesn't do for the Rittevons."

Alanna swore that she felt something as the words were said, some glimmer of being that she couldn't begin to describe, but full contact with the ember hadn't shown her anything. She still wouldn't put it past Roger to listen in on her in a way that her totem couldn't follow. "Thank you, Buri. I think I'll go look up a few things in the library."

"Alanna, you're pale as a sheet!" Thayet said, taking Alanna's wrist before she could stand. Even against Thayet's creamy skin, Alanna's pallor was obvious. "Are you alright?"

"I had a strange feeling," Alanna said, seeing no reason to deny what had just happened.

"You started just after I said the god's name." Buri peered at her curiously, for once not treating Alanna as a potential danger to Thayet. "You're sensitive to the gods?"

"So far it's only been a sensitivity to one god," Alanna admitted. "I'd rather not talk about it here," where Roger could overhear, somehow.

"Let us walk you to the library, please," Thayet said, gently pulling Alanna to her feet. "I am quite interested in what your books will say of Sarain, and after Buri humors me we can go watch her knight tilt at the little competition just before dinner."

"He's not my knight," Buri muttered, flushing. "Let's get you to the library."

Alanna kept her mouth shut, leaving all the gentle teasing to Thayet. Buri didn't look all that bothered by the implications that Raoul was very fond of her, and it did cheer Thayet out of her earlier funk. For her part, Alanna learned the whole sad history of the Conquests of the Copper Isles that had turned the welcoming tribes into the slaves of the invaders.

Alanna's hand clenched so tight around her ember-stone that her hand hurt. _This wasn't right, _Alanna thought loudly, not caring that she was contradicting the Goddess. _Your people prayed to you, but do you always give children what they will? _

There was no answer, but a quiet pulse from the ember gave Alanna the feeling that she would have her answer soon. Alanna gulped, not sure she was ready for the wrath of a goddess, but the only event in the next half hour was Faithful appearing in the library to cuddle in her lap.

When Buri and Thayet left for the tournament, Alanna was unsurprised to find Liam Ironarm come out from the darker parts of the library. "Milady," the Shang teased, his lilting voice making the title into a pet name. As long as he kept 'kitten' out of it, Alanna didn't mind. "I would imagine that you would care to avoid the celebratory feast tonight? Mistress Cooper believes you might be in need of some healing."

Alanna frowned, finding an odd inflection in those last words. "You disapprove of healing, Master Ironarm?"

"It's a weakness for those in my field, milady. Natural healing's stronger, and magic's a cheat."

"Hm." Alanna set her books in neat stacks for the squire in charge of minding the knights' library. "You made a bad choice in me yesterday, Ironarm. I'm Thom's equal for magical strength and I'm a healer by trade."

Liam looked inclined to agree about a poor choice even before meeting Faithful's eyes. He started to step away, but caught himself. "You're going to make some man very happy someday, milady, but it won't be me. I'll still walk you over to town, if you like."

"We can make a group of it," Alanna suggested. "I'm not hiding. Coram wants to visit Rispah on his night off, I would think, and I could find some sort of help in the stables." Faithful took that as his opportunity to hop onto her shoulder, settling comfortably against her neck. She did find Coram on her way, and by the time she reached Moonlight's stall, the mare was ready to go.

"Thank you, Sarge," Alanna said as he lifted her onto the mare. Most ladies rode side-saddle, but riding astride was permissible with just the right skirting and the right way to get onto the horse. Sarge happened to be the best help a lady could hope for in getting onto a horse of moderate height.

"I think I'll be comin' along," Sarge said, nodding to Liam. It appeared that Liam had met all of her friends during his brief stay in town.

No one else was mounted, so it was an odd procession that made its way to the Lower City. Normally a woman on horseback would be a favorite target, but there was a subdued air in the streets, with few people outside even at just half a bell to six. Her escort of three strong men would have been more effective had there been anyone to intimidate away.

The three of them were careful of her safety, but all of them withdrew to check through the stables when Old Solom waved Alanna inside. There was little use in games of 'Aly' when Roger already knew all too much.

"His majesty has a guest, but you'll always be welcome," Solom said formally. The old bartender had always treated Alanna as if she were a queen, not just a lady, and she had always been fond of the man in return.

"Thank you, Solom. I'll head right up."

George's guest had an unfamiliar voice, but it wasn't all that surprising given just how many people her friend knew. Alanna's steps up the main stair were light, but both George and the visitor slowed when they first heard her.

From her view at the top of the stairs, she only had a view of George, but it was more of a view than she was accustomed to seeing. Alanna had only a moment to appreciate the planes of her friend's bare chest before his breeches were suddenly gathered around his ankles.

Alanna clapped a hand over her eyes a moment later, but that moment was all any self-respecting healer would need to know more than was at all necessary. She had done quite enough healing on male patients to know the rough mechanics, as well as the rough appearance, but hadn't exactly desired a demonstration with her best friend.

Alanna was only distracted from her embarrassment by a booming laugh that seemed to shake the room. "She is a fine-blooded one!" the voice crowed.

When Alanna dared to look, George was glaring good-naturedly to the corner of his room while redoing his belt. "As I could've told ye, guest of mine, without any of your tomfoolery. She's the one what heard your name, I'd wager?"

The guest was a lean man with firm muscles and with short salt-and-pepper hair over a broad nose. She supposed she should say that he _appeared _to be a man, that was, because her emberstone was glowing without any kind of attention from Alanna. "You're one of hers? Knew there'd be some downside."

"It's a pleasure, I'm sure," Alanna said tartly as the god blatantly sized up the size of her chest. She'd read enough of the Copper Isles to know who this had to be. "Hello, Kyprioth."

"She's sharp enough," Kyprioth said to George before turning the full weight of his gaze on her. Alanna might have faltered without Faithful so near. The cat yowled at him, saying something that everyone in the room could understand it.

_Leave her be, Kyprioth! _Faithful's voice sounded like thunder. _You and I know well that my mistress was deceived, and that your tricks were part of that doing! _

Kyprioth sighed elaborately. "I lost a wager, that's all, but I do admit to underestimating the man's devotion." He glanced to Alanna, offering an explanation as if atoning for some earlier wrong. "Mithros I understand, his people won the war and that's what he practices. The Goddess was led all astray by one of her pawns—one much like you, as it happens. Humans that change the world.

"So long as the Goddess's precious luarin mind her temple, my people will live under their feet."

Faithful leapt down from Alanna's shoulder, striding forward until her housecat was the size of a tiger. _No, trickster. The Goddess had given her pawn one chance to redeem himself, by giving his own child to replace the raka child he had killed in cold blood. You tried to have the man kill his child, instead. _

Kyprioth yawned widely, showing far too many teeth. "Considering that he had killed seventeen children already, I would have thought he would find the mission easy."

_He killed himself, fool! That child was left alone in the Goddess's temple, and that was the last direct influence she was allowed on that island, _Faithful growled._ That was her last chance to subvert Mithros' will, which is stronger after blood has been spilt in war. _

"Enough!" George said, stepping between panther and god with no sign of fear. "Kyprioth, you yourself have said that it isn't time to change the past yet, and would you really discuss it before the Goddess's chosen? Faithful, we can talk when my bedroom isn't crowded and lacking in pants."

Kyprioth chuckled, immediately distracted from his earlier anger. "That was a good one, Cooper, glad your lady-friend had a look. You mortals, always so shy."

"I am a healer," Alanna said tartly, not willing to let Kyprioth tease her further. "Is there a point to your visit, or do you enjoy harassing your potential supplicants?" That drew Kyprioth's interest. "I need advice, as it happens, and it seems that you would be the best source… if you were interested."

Faithful reverted to his normal size as Kyprioth considered the offer. Her cat leapt back up to her shoulder as if nothing unusual had happened, nuzzling affectionately at her cheek like he was nothing more than a housecat.

"I hope you've the sense to keep this one, Cooper," Kyprioth said with a wild smile. "I like her, and I'll steal her away if you don't."

"It's a temporary offer, Kyprioth," Alanna clarified. She had read enough in the library to guess how to gain the god's interest. "I already have the permanent interest of one god, and that's quite enough. You just happen to be a master of tricks and traps, and I thought you might be interested."

"I'm listening," the god said.

"Princess Josiane will have a grand introductory dinner tomorrow evening. I'm sure you would hate to have such an occasion entirely disrupted, especially if it implicated Roger. The king wants to open up trade with the Copper Isles, again, never mind that they keep slaves." Buri and Thayet had known more of Tortallan politics than Alanna, an oversight that she planned to fix as soon as she found the time. "Roger killed the prince, Kyprioth, and all I need is proof."

"In return for…"

"I imagine that unhappiness on Josiane's part would be worth the small bother," Alanna coaxed, careful to never presume too much with a god. The ember had long since fade, making her hope that she wouldn't earn the Goddess's anger through the gambit. "We have a Saren princess that could do with an introduction, and I guarantee that Thayet will outshine an inbred harridan with the poor taste to consider Roger's offer in marriage."

"I can give you a chance only." Kyprioth looked uncharacteristically serious. "The likelihood of that chance depends on what you'll give me, and I think you might not mind the steepest price all too much. You've a slay-the-dragons streak in you—not that most dragons need slaying, mind, but you don't like injustice and you like mending problems.

"I can give you everything you need to succeed, if you'll give me one of your children."

"In what sense?" Alanna asked immediately.

Kyprioth grinned, all teasing happiness again. "Oh, nothing too much. I just want the best-suited of your children to lead a teeny-tiny rebellion against the legally rightful king, putting a half-raka queen on the throne and restoring my people to their old autonomy on the isles. Don't worry too much about any imminence, the queen I want isn't born yet. I've an eye on getting the beautiful mother to catch the eye of a clever lord."

"Like mother, like child," Alanna said thoughtfully. Any child of hers that was interested could do a lot of good, even with the danger involved. "A chance for a chance," she said after a moment's thought. "You give me the chance to depose Roger, permanently, you get to make the offer to any number of my children after their sixteenth birthdays. If they accept, you have yourself a champion."

Kyprioth held out a hand, looking her in the eye. Only experience seeing the Goddess kept Alanna steady on her feet as she looked into the barely-controlled madness of a trickster god. Alanna shook his hand just before he disappeared in a flurry of colorful lights.

George caught her before she fell backward and down the stairs. "Very well played, lass," he said admiringly. "Just the kind of bargain he'd like, and I imagine one child of yours would want to go right an old wrong."

"I think he took something out of me," Alanna said wearily, too woozy to react when George picked her up against his still-bare chest. It was a nice view, after all.

"We'll get you a bite to eat then have somebody bundle you back to the palace when you're a bit perkier." George descended into the sudden chaos of the Dancing Dove without seeming to care how many people were yelling for answers. He didn't react until she was settled in his usual chair by the fire.

"Quiet, you lot!" he called, instantly inducing calm that extended to even Coram. "We just had a little run-in with an old friend of mine, and he's a bit of an odd duck. Solom, get the lady some lemonade sweet as ye can make it and as much as she wants to eat. Coram, you come and keep an eye on her or you'll not settle. Liam and Sarge? We'll have a word up in my room."

Alanna sipped her too-sweet lemonade until she felt halfway human again, and wondered just what she had done. She was almost afraid to put a hand to her ember-stone, but she would never be able to win without courage.

When Alanna rested her hand against the ember pendant at her throat, it pulsed warmly, and seemed to restore all that Kyprioth had taken. Alanna smiled before tucking into an early dinner. Roger should watch his back. Beyond her many friends and allies, Alanna had two gods on her side.


	17. Interlude

_This is a short chapter filled with tiny hints about what's coming up next time. Predictions are always welcome, if you think you know what I'm after. _

**Lady Lioness: Interlude**

After the excitement at the Dancing Dove, Alanna had been happy to spend the night at Eleni's home instead of making the journey back to the palace. Alanna was even happier to see Kara slipping out the door with a translucent veil over a bright smile, Marek laughing at her side. George called them his heirs apparent, as if he planned to retire any moment, and Alanna couldn't help but think that the two of them would do well. Kara had already learned enough healing to help with the various ailments of the ladies' court, and that was far more than anyone had expected from the Bazhir shaman.

Numair Cooper was doing similarly well, though he was far beyond Alanna's level in magic. He and Thom would be friends, Alanna was sure, if Roger were not between them. Numair was still happy to see Alanna, and accordingly spent half an hour explaining some nearly incomprehensible theory on the origins of magic. The insane boy was studying the various types of magic, specifically anything that wasn't the Gift, and he was thrilled beyond recognition to have found something called 'wild magic' in Stefan. Numair wanted to visit the palace to pester Stefan about his work with horses. It took Alanna, George, and Eleni five minutes to explain why that would be a terrible idea. George finally resolved the issue by telling Numair he would only be dispensed one miraculous life-saving, George had other people to look after, and Sarge had his own work to do in the stables. With that issue resolved, Alanna had gone to bed.

Alanna slept solidly throughout the night, and didn't wake until lunch was being served.

That morning, in the palace, Salma Aynnur had met with Lady Cythera's very shy maid. No one was truly supposed to know yet, of course, but Sir Gareth had made a private proposal and Lady Cythera had agreed. Salma promised to keep it quiet, but didn't promise not to tell anyone. It sounded like the kind of thing that Alanna might need to know.

In another part of the palace, Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Mistress Tourakom of the K'miri Hau Ma clan welcomed a delegation of Bazhir ambassadors. Several of them knew Raoul personally, and the men exchanged hand-clasps and commented about the journey and the palace. Buri's eye was caught by their shaman, who stayed to the back and avoided eye contact with anyone, but was soon was drawn into conversation by the current Voice of the Bazhir, Ali Mukhtab, and his chosen successor, Amman Kemail.

Thayet had been taking a solitary early luncheon when someone knocked on her open door. Thom of Trebond had come to visit, and he had brought flowers to accompany a very sheepish expression. The distinct lack of Delia (who may as well have been glued to him the night before) said nearly all that Thayet needed to hear, but the rest of it was promising. An apology was more than she would have asked for, but all that she needed to wholeheartedly forgive the confusion and the hurt. Thom couldn't stay long, because he had a last lesson in magic before the ball that night, but he promised that he was going to try to deserve her.

Thayet tried to interrupt, wondering if Thom was yet another man that expected her to be overly selective because of her looks, but Thom wouldn't be swayed. He had something to do, and if it went badly, he hoped Thayet remembered him fondly.

Sir Myles left the palace for an early drink at the Dancing Dove, and to mention casually to his friends Scholar and Old Solom that the delegation from the Bazhir tribes had arrived four days earlier than expected.

Princess Josiane made a token attempt at concealing Delia, but was far more interested in the chance that Roger might ask for her hand in marriage at the ball that night. Delia quickly realized that her little story of being abandoned by Thom in favor of penniless royalty had a poor audience in Josiane, so she left to console herself by seducing two married nobles into kissing her before lunchtime.

Roger was waiting impatiently for his dazy-headed squire. Somehow, the boy had gone back to that nose-in-the-air princess and hadn't been at all interested in Delia. Roger had no time for youthful foibles based on something so unsteady as passion, especially when he had work to do. He had a proposal to arrange, a magical working to finish, and an assassination to supervise, and Thom was half an hour late.

Just before Alanna woke, Kyprioth appeared in her room, emitting no more power than the mortal man he appeared to be.

"Didn't mean to take that much of your perk, keep forgetting that non-raka mortals are frail little things," he grumbled to himself, peering closely at the sleeping woman. "Guess your patron did well enough by you, girl, but I want you to live so you can bear my future champion. You need more than justice and righteousness on your side.

"Everything has a price, love, but this will be the easiest one to pay before the end." Kyprioth edged several long strands of red hair aside, his hand pausing on the lock that Thom's spell had cut short. "All I ask in exchange is a kiss." She didn't respond, of course, but he took the lack of objection as her very sensible agreement.

"Knew there was a reason Cooper was so fond—here we are, then." Kyprioth bent to kiss her cheek, leaving behind an impression that would last the whole day through. Everything would be as it should, and those that deserved trouble would find it in multitudes. "There," he said with obvious satisfaction. "Trickster's own luck to you, Alanna of Trebond and Olau, and do remember to produce my little liberator with Cooper."

When Alanna woke, scarce seconds after she woke, she touched a hand to her cheek. She could have sworn… There was nothing to do for it, though, so she pulled on her most practical black dress and resolved to dream about George Cooper when she had the time for more than conspiracies and secrets.


	18. Chapter Sixteen: Part One

_The main part of the story is nearly over, but there will be several brief scenes to show the many changes that Alanna's new history will make. For anyone surprised by Thayet's new interest, I remind you that her original partner was a stubborn, contrary man that still had a bit of growing up to do before she accepted his hand in marriage. _

_Parts One and Two will be posted together, so don't be too frustrated with the ending of this chapter. _

**Lady Lioness  
>Chapter Sixteen: Part One<strong>

When Thayet happened to meet Thom in the hall in the afternoon, he was far different than the man she had spoken with just that very morning. He was close to grey with exhaustion, and the usual intensity of his violet eyes was subdued. He walked past her as if he could not see her, and only stopped when she gently tapped him on the shoulder.

"Thom, you look as if Death himself nearly met you," she chided, her voice even softer than her touch. When he didn't withdraw from the tap, she rested her entire hand against his shoulder. "You must ask your twin for healing before the ceremony. No matter your history, she will be pleased to help you."

"She'll need her energy," Thom said in a croak. "I don't deserve her help, Thayet. It's too much to explain, but I know my mother wouldn't be proud."

"Thom, forgiveness is never better than forewarning when the option is present." Her hand trailed down his arm, and that finally drew some light back into his eyes. "You love your sister and Roger both, I know, but your sister would never give an ultimatum."

"I don't have time for this talk, Thayet." Even as Thom said the words, he twined his fingers through hers. His grip was tighter than she might have preferred, but she wouldn't pull away when that little contact was bringing the light back to his eyes. "It's already too late." He didn't sound convinced, and that was all the chance she needed.

"Never." Gentleness hadn't worked, and neither had sympathy. That left the blunter approach. "You always have a choice, Thom of Trebond, and it's past time that you made one." She had expected the lecture to irritate him, but he was looking at her as if truer words would never be spoken. "I've already made my decision, you stubborn ass, and it's you. For all that you can be aggravating, and stubborn, and as unsteady as mercury, I like you. You're funny when you give yourself the chance, you're loyal in the worst of circumstances, and you're one of those people that can change the world if you like.

"You have so much magic, Thom. It's truly called the Gift for a reason. The gods chose you to wield your power, and to do it wisely."

Thom looked as if she had struck him, which wouldn't do as a final expression. Thayet's expression was far kinder when she closed the distance between them. "You're at a crossroads, I think, and you'll decide which path to take."

She didn't love him, or at least didn't love him yet, but she wanted him to succeed. She wanted him to choose Alanna, and for Thayet's own admiration and respect to be a bonus. Thayet didn't realize that she was absently toying with her hair, an old nervous habit. Thom did, and looked almost longingly at the ebony locks of hair moving over her cream-white skin.

Thom smiled at her, albeit crookedly, but the old fervor had returned to his gaze. "You've given me much to think about, Thayet, and maybe it won't be too late to win a little respect back."

"You have my respect, Thom." Thayet prayed that it would still be true after Thom's mysterious act. When he looked dubious, Thayet responded with daring. She leaned forward to kiss him, chastely, but his resulting dropped jaw when she stepped away proved that her action had breached the last of his defenses.

He fled soon after, beating a quick retreat, but Thayet stood in the corridor until Raoul and Buri came to collect her. Her guardswoman and best friend shook her head. "You would fall for the most stubborn man in Corus," Buri said, reading Thayet's expression as easily as always. "But you won't impress many people without all the trappings of a princess, so let's get you ready. Salma already has Alanna at the mercy of the curling iron."

Just as Buri had said, Alanna was patiently submitting to Salma's careful ministrations of curls and waves and pins as Salma tsked about a shortened lock of hair that had to be hidden with careful curling. The lady and the maid were chatting about Sir Gary's infatuation with Lady Cythera, and the strong likelihood that he would propose that very night. Alanna had a slight tinge to her expression that made Thayet expect that Alanna's 'guess' was far more than a wild supposition, but she kept her own counsel.

Alanna's gown for the night was trimmed with the darkest purple ribbon, a small break from mourning that brought out the color of her eyes. The square neckline showed her perpetual ember-charm to an advantage, and the full skirts easily hid Alanna's favorite soft-soled leather shoes.

Buri was wearing her usual uniform, all the better to compliment Raoul's no-nonsense approach to balls and grand occasions. The pair of them still refused to admit that they were a couple, but it was clear to anyone with eyes. Raoul and Buri drew attention wherever they went, between Raoul's popularity and the K'mir's infamous skill with a bow and with knives. They also drew the longing looks of matchmakers that were sure their next candidate would have snagged Sir Raoul of Goldenlake.

The palace might have been in a flurry of preparations for the ball, but the atmosphere in Alanna's chambers was relaxed until an unexpected visitor rapped on her window.

"George!" Alanna opened the window, prepared to be exasperated even before Numair Cooper followed George through her window. "What are you doing here? Why is Numair here?"

"I saw the both of us coming, lass, nothing else for it," George said grimly. "My Sight has yet to lead me wrong. I'll stay nice and out of sight, and Numair and I have practiced out some magic that not even Roger or your brother could find.

"Roger is making his move tonight, and I haven't the faintest idea what it'll be."

Numair was uncharacteristically serious as he nodded to Thayet, Buri, and Salma. "I know that I don't know enough magic yet, Alanna, but I couldn't leave you alone against Roger." He was diplomatic enough to leave 'and your brother' unsaid, even as everyone but Thayet winced.

"He might surprise us," Thayet defended. Buri held her tongue on how biased Thayet's opinion was likely to be. "He loves you, Alanna, and that could still win out over years of loyalty to Roger."

"I hope it does," Alanna murmured.

Little else was said before the start of the ball. The mood of the room had turned contemplative, and didn't lighten even when George wrapped his arms around her. It couldn't help when he looked as if they would never talk again.

Not even Raoul's ebullience at introducing several of his friends among the Bazhir could rid the group of the sense that something was wrong. The formal receiving line left many of them without escorts, which suited Alanna just fine. She was able size up the room, and to note the many couples and nobles that had taken her side.

Alanna was led to a fairly important table, again with Gary and Cythera. Alanna nudged at Gary's ankle under the table, smiling when he nodded once. He was one of the first parts of her push back against Roger, and with George worrying, she expected that she would need that push tonight. Alanna was seated well before Princess Thayet arrived, and was very pleased to notice that not even Princess Josiane's place at King Roger's right hand could distract the staring that Thayet attracted.

The dinner itself was rather forgettable, even with Roger's frequent staring, because everyone knew the primary attraction of such events was never the beautiful courses or the elaborate desserts. The true politics started when the dance floor was opened, and that night Roger's opening salvo was a dance with Princess Josiane. Roger's squire was on hand with refreshments, and most people would have said that Thom looked the same as always. Alanna was not most people, and she knew very well that her brother was doing poorly. Thom shouldn't be at the ball in such a state.

Before Roger had too much attention, and too much public opinion gained from his potential wedlock with a wealthy foreign princess, Alanna's first distraction came into play. Cythera had been given notice, but her excited agreement to Gary's proposal was entirely unfeigned. The pair of them instantly drew notice, of course, and the entire ball was ready to shift toward a congratulatory event for one of the realm's favorite knights and one of Corus's prettiest ladies.

Alanna did her best to not stare at the hangings, wondering which one George had chosen. Both George and Numair were present despite her strong objections, and so far they remained undiscovered. She could only hope that would continue to be the case.

Raoul asked her to dance, again, but she suspected it was to save Buri. Raoul also took a turn around the floor with Cythera, once he pried her away from Gary. Alanna danced with Gary to distract him, and both were stunned when Raoul made no move to slink away from the dance. It seemed that Raoul know there was some mischief in the air, and he knew to stay near Alanna or Thayet.

To Alanna's surprise, Thayet and Thom were dancing together and leaving Delia well to the side. It did explain why Thayet had defended her brother so readily, but Alanna couldn't help but wonder who was right about her quick-tempered brother.

Alanna had little time to wonder, as Roger had approached her yet again. His smile was pleasant, even when she knew about the ruins beneath it. "Dance with me, milady."

"I was waiting for a different partner, thank you," Alanna demurred.

"Your king insists." The tone of his voice had changed. For once, Alanna had the distinct impression that she was losing their subtle game, when she hadn't realized that they had started again. She relented, accepting his hand and following his lead out onto the ballroom floor.

"I imagine you think your stunt with Sir Gary was clever, Alanna."

"Stunt, your grace?" Alanna would not call him her king, and Roger knew it.

Roger's glare would have scared nearly anyone. Alanna had seen worse from him in just that week. "Don't be coy, Alanna, and don't imagine your friends are out of danger. My offer of marriage ends tonight, though the price has risen. I would advise you to take the queenship and the blood oath, Alanna, because I will win our contest."

If Roger was threatening her so badly, then she was doing well enough for him to lose control. "I am in mourning, Roger. I won't wed anyone for seven months yet."

"Spare me the formalities, Alanna." The pair of them paused for intricate footwork interspersed with whirling turns, but neither lost their place in the talk. "Don't force me to use the most inelegant of options when we have so many more civilized choices."

"Does Princess Josiane know that she's your backup bride, in case you can't have me?" Alanna asked, ignoring his threat in favor of her own.

"Inelegance it is, Alanna, but know that I attempted civility. Accept what little dignity you have left and marry me."

The last two words carried. Alanna couldn't put a hand to her ember-stone to check with Roger watching her so closely, but she knew she would see threads of orange magic carrying those words to every corner of the hall. Just as Alanna had predicted, she caught an enraged Copper Isles princess turning an unattractive shade of bone-white. That couldn't end well.

The words also seemed to be some kind of cue, because there was a wild yell behind her that didn't sound at all surprised, and a shout from Raoul. Alanna spun, finding her hands free from Roger's grasp, but knew she was too late to pull back the massive magic that one of the Bazhir delegation was aiming directly at Raoul's heart.

The entire hall seemed to yell "no!" at once, but one person had taken action. In that moment, the would-be murderer fell to the ground with his arms held closely against his body, and both legs kicking together against invisible bonds. A second after that, his yelling abruptly ceased. Raoul was unharmed, but his assailant was going nowhere.

Eleni Cooper cleared her throat politely, holding a partially-unraveled handkerchief in her hand. "I believe that our shaman has just experienced one of the more womanly magics," she said clearly. Eleni's voice carried without any magic, and she had the bearing of a queen as the entire hall turned to her. "Sir Gareth of Naxen, please take this man into custody. From the insignia on his sleeve, I gather that this man was once the shaman of the Bloody Hawk tribe."

Gary stepped forward, his expression looking as though it had been carved from stone. "Akhnan ibn Nazzir. You are under arrest for the attempted murder of Sir Raoul of Goldenlake, for the murder of the Bloody Hawk tribe, and for the murder of Sir Gareth the Elder of Naxen."

That threw the entire hall into a stir, but Gary was ready. With Raoul following, Gary lifted Nazzir off the floor to personally deliver the shaman to a Tortallan jail. Cythera went back to her table after meeting Gary's eyes, and the lady looked perfectly content to freshen her cosmetics with no company whatsoever.

Less than a minute later, Eleni's magic prevented Princess Josiane from coming within one hundred feet of Alanna. The princess had been holding an axe she had taken from one of the decorative suits of armor, and looked as if she had meant to use it. As Alanna had said, the princess had expected to be the recipient of Roger's offer. This time, Eleni followed as Coram and another guard gently took the axe from Josiane before taking her from the hall.

Alanna believed that was two points to her side of things, as she and Roger were forever playing their little game. She deliberately turned back to her king, offering a shallow curtsy that wouldn't satisfy a knight. "Shall we dance, your majesty?"

Roger didn't take her hand. Instead, he opened a fist to reveal a tiny doll in her perfect likeness. Its dress was an exact replica for her own gown, down to the purple edging at the hems and neckline, and the tiny features of the face all matched her own. Even the hair was in a decent approximation of her own style, and there was no mistaking the red hair as anything but her own.

Alanna's hand was touching the short lock of her own hair before she realized that she had moved. "Thom," she whispered.

Roger's smile would put a Carthaki viper to shame. "Indeed, Lady Alanna. Your hair and Thom's blood together make this bit of focus powerful indeed, and there is no need to worry that we will be interrupted. Your allies have left you, and you would be a fool to think Myles knows to interfered. The rest of the room will only see us dancing."

Alanna didn't know what magic he had worked to isolate her from all her allies, and she had only read about focuses in her studies with Numair. He studied nearly every type of magic, even those kinds that no sane person would think to practice. Numair had said that you could never trust what an opponent would and wouldn't do, and he had been right.

"It will come to a contest of wills," Alanna said weakly, knowing that she wouldn't win against a piece of herself in such an image. Roger had done nothing, she knew, so the creeping feeling of defeat was only part of her own imagination. "I'll be of no more use as a queen than a simulacra."

"The focus will not be a permanent measure," Roger chided gently, as if she were a child. "It will be the extreme example only. I'm sure that we will come to an agreement in time, and if you were clever you would not force me to prove just what this little doll can do to you. I like the fire in your eyes, Alanna, and would not be satisfied with only a life-size doll. Surely you can realize that the safety of your friends is paramount compared to paltry things such as freedom."

"You already tried to have Raoul murdered."

"I would have settled for a maiming," Roger replied smoothly. "It was an experiment, really, but wedding you will work closely enough. Had a Bazhir killed their precious pet, it would have driven the nation to war, and wartime kings are always remembered fondly. Just think of Jasson before me."

Alanna could see the madness in his eyes behind his veneer of civility more clearly than ever. "You would kill thousands for your own vanity?"

"I would destroy every last man, woman, and child of the Bazhir as the start of a legacy. You have delayed too long to hope that all of your little friends can live, Alanna, and every hesitation will only increase the count of bodies and funerals." Roger toyed absently with the focus, and despite his words his tone remained reasonable and even charming. "Marry me, Alanna."

"Why do you want me so badly?" she asked, finally asking the question that had distracted her for weeks on end. "Josiane would have suited you, for all that she was as mad as you!"

Roger's eyes narrowed as his smile turned vicious. "You'll regret those words, Alanna." He squeezed the red-haired doll in his hand with murder in his eyes, but Alanna felt nothing.

Across the ballroom, and beyond the small pocket of area that Roger had marked away from notice, Thom screamed and fell to the ground.


	19. Chapter Sixteen: Part Two

_This is the last chapter of the main story, but several followup scenes will be posted as small epilogues._

**Lady Lioness  
>Chapter Sixteen: Part Two <strong>

When Thom fell to the ground, Roger looked as stunned as Alanna felt.

Red hair. The doll might have red hair, but that hair hadn't come from Alanna's head, and by Roger's own admission the focus didn't carry her blood.

The magic separating Roger and Alanna from the rest of the ballroom dissipated even as Alanna's hand clenched around her pendant. Orange magic was wrapped entirely around her brother, constricting him as if a hand had come from nowhere, but there was something wrong with the edges of Roger's Gift. Instead of the clean borders she would have suspected, the ribbons of magic blurred into unsteady shapes.

One of the hangings against the wall had been ripped aside, but most people in the ballroom didn't notice George and Numair emerging from thin air seconds later. They were staring at Alanna's twin, who was rapidly paling even as his screams faded to quiet noises that were worse than screaming.

"Stop it!" Alanna shrieked, hardly believing her voice could be so shrill against the murmur of panicked voice. "You're killing him!"

Roger wouldn't miss his opportunity. "You know what I want, Alanna."

Alanna couldn't agree. Even if Thom could live, when she could see the life draining from him in fast degrees, it wouldn't end with this. The next time she rebelled against Roger's tyranny, it could be anyone. Roger had been willing to kill Raoul to start a war, and had arranged the death of Sir Gareth the Elder for that same purpose. He had already made it clear that he understood the depth of Alanna's feelings for George, and Roger had tried to pin his crimes on Numair—Numair, who knew just what Roger had done to Prince Jonathan.

Even as her heart broke, Alanna knew her answer.

"Never," she hissed, staring directly into Roger's mad eyes. "I will never marry you! You're a monster, Roger, and I know that you killed Prince Jonathan. The sweating sickness was your creation!"

Arram Draper's resurrection from apparent death had drawn no attention until Arram himself spoke up. "I can swear to it under a truth spell," Numair said clearly, facing the shock of an entire room. "Roger and Ozorne together modified the old scourge to kill healers, as no natural fever would."

Beside Numair, George had Lightning casually slung back against his shoulder. "The boy speaks the truth, Roger, and you know it. There's nothing right in the way that you encouraged Lianne's death along with your focuses and tricks, even like the focus killing Squire Thom even as we speak."

Roger's tight grip on the focus eased instinctively, leaving the orange Gift to fade away. Thayet was already kneeling beside the downed man, and her hand was clenched tightly around his. "King Roger of Conté aided in driving Sarain to civil war, with the full cooperation of my father, Adigun _jin _Wilima."

The white-haired woman at Thayet's shoulder was the next to speak. "The diplomacy office has long been aware of communications between King Roger and the radical fringes of the Bazhir," Ilane of Mindelan said calmly. "I believe we can prove beyond a doubt that his majesty drove Akhnan ibn Nazzir to this evening's assassination attempt on Raoul of Goldenlake."

From the side of the hall, Raoul stood with Gareth of Naxen, looking every inch the storybook knight. "Nazzir has already confessed that the then-Duke drove him to create the unbound Gate of Idramm, and that he was unaware that his tribe would die along with Sir Gareth the Elder," Raoul said clearly, rage clear in his expression.

"Deaths lie at your feet, your majesty, and the creation or use of focuses has been banned since 217 of the Human Era," Myles added, standing tall with Eleni Cooper again at his side.

"King Roger threatened my infant son," Duke Baird called across the ballroom, nodding to the small boy sleeping in his mother's arms. "He thought to drive me away from the alliance of nobles that knew of his treachery, though we had no proof until tonight."

Liam Ironarm wore the simplest of clothes suitable for court, but he was the equal to any lord there. "The Shang take no sides in politics as a rule, but we stand together against Roger of Conté as an offense against the very world."

Roger had no allies left, with Thom nearly comatose on the ground, but he had met the clamor of accusations with a calm demeanor. "Be as it may, your charges hold no ground."

"You have a focus in your very hand, Roger," Alanna countered. "I swear in the Goddess's name, the world will never forget your name. You will be known as the vile creature you are, and here is _my _offer. Surrender now to justice, and you may yet keep your head."

"I'll take my chances," Roger snarled, even as the entirety of the court was against him. "Will you, Alanna? I still hold your brother's life in my hands."

"You'll always hold someone's life in your hands, Roger. Your reign ends tonight, with or without your threats." There were tears in her eyes as she spoke. It was all too likely that Thom's death would follow those words.

Madmen would never be swayed by logic. "Let's see, then," he said calmly, and in the next moment the doll was on fire.

Alanna snatched the flaming doll away from Roger, not caring that her hand burned, but it was already too late. Roger's laugh put chills down her spine, and she knew even before she could reach her brother that the fire had done its work. Thom's shocked gasps had faded before the first of her magic could touch him.

Roger's magic kept everyone at bay, even as every knight in the hall tried to reach him. Alanna knew that it was already too late even before Roger gathered the last of his magic into a spell meant to destroy both her and her brother.

Alanna could see Roger's magic arcing toward both of them, but she couldn't defend herself without losing Thom. Thom's pulse was fluttering beneath her hand, even as he looked like one who had already died. The stream of her magic pouring into her brother was keeping him alive, and Thayet's near-wordless pleading could barely keep the remnants of Thom's attention.

Just when she thought that she was gone, with Thom and Thayet besides, the blaze of orange faded to nothing. She blinked the brilliant afterlights away from her eyes, but couldn't see anything even as she heard a dull thud. When she could see again, Roger's body was crumpling to the ground, following the severed head that had already hit the ballroom floor.

Behind the king, George stood with Lightning in hand and no remorse on his face.

Alanna threw the last of her magic into Thom, and thumped him on the shoulder when he regained color and breath all at once. "You're never to do something that stupidly noble again," Alanna warned her brother before running to George's side. No matter that Roger had been accused of any number of crimes, regicide would have her best friend executed.

The Lord Provost was walking toward them with no emotion visible on his face when something erupted into brilliance in the space between Alanna and George.

She had never seen the deity before, but she knew without a doubt that she was looking into Mithros' eyes.

The dark-skinned god surveyed the hall, finding which people averted their eyes and which peered past the brilliance of his golden armor and the burning white tip of his spear. "My pawns' work is done," he proclaimed, lending facets of his glory to both George and Alanna. "Let Roger's legacy be known, and let it be famed what will happen to those who take crowns by deceit, but never his name."

"So mote it be," Alanna replied on instinct.

Somehow, she was sure that no one else but George saw the god's wink or the expression that looked entirely out of place on Mithros' serious face before the god vanished in another burst of pure light. She was certain that no one but George heard Kyprioth's whisper into her ear. "I told you, sweetheart, I want your kid and I want that child with Cooper's contributions. So get on it, I won't wait forever."

Alanna's blush could be attributed to the god's proclamation, but there was time for more than one type of declaration. She pulled George close with half of the court looking on, and kissed him in a way that left no doubt about her attentions.

After a moment of completely obvious shock, George kissed her back, and propriety was entirely forgotten in favor of very new and pleasant feelings.

The pair of them only stopped when someone politely cleared his throat behind them. As one, they turned to find the Lord Provost.

The Provost's lips were twitching in a barely repressed smile. "Master Cooper, we meet at last. Given your obvious protection by such an entity, I must be forced to assume that your previous… efforts… were a part of some grand plan I cannot comprehend.

"My compliments on keeping order within such an organization, but I must insist that you have no more criminal dealings."

George looked from the Provost to Alanna. "I think I could find reasons t' retire," he said politely, aware of the entire hall's attention. "After such excitement, a man could find retirement a pleasure." He kept his arm around Alanna's shoulders as he and his long-time opponent in George's own game shook hands.

The Lord Provost looked to Roger's corpse. "That does leave us with one small dilemma." He delicately kicked the crown away from the head before the spreading pool of blood could mar the gold. "I don't believe that he will require such an article at his funeral."

The light kick should have sent the crown only five paces at most, but the night had one last portent to offer. The golden crown rolled across the entirety of the hall to rest at the feet of Sir Gareth of Naxen.


	20. Epilogue

_This will be the last chapter for _Lady Lioness. _It's been a pleasure to write and to hear so many different opinions on where the story would go and what my various changes of the plot meant to readers. _

_For those who didn't see nearly enough Numair, the newly posted story should solve that desire. _From Scanra With Love _is a cheerful story about espionage and the hazards of consorting with strange people. _

**Lady Lioness: Epilogue **

The coronation of Sir Gareth of Naxen was a quiet affair, as was the funeral service for the late King Roger of Conté. For months, the entire kingdom seemed subdued in face of such affairs, but that changed by the time Alanna left formal mourning. George Cooper, the baron of Pirate's Swoop, was the gentleman that shared half the responsibility for the most talked-about wedding since King Gareth and Queen Cythera's.

Lady Alanna married George Cooper the day she left formal mourning. The Lord Provost and the new King of Thieves, both in attendance at the wedding, had a great deal of pleasure in avoiding eye contact, though Marek's lover was far bolder. Kara, Queen of the Rogue and recognized Bazhir shaman, complimented the Provost on his fast removal of Ralon of Malven from Corus's streets.

The year seemed to fly by for everyone except Thom. Raoul had taken him on as a squire, and the pair of them worked hard on Thom's many neglected skills of being a full knight. Thom's horsemanship improved by vast degrees under Raoul's tutelage, Thayet was happy to demonstrate court manners and proper etiquette, and Alanna didn't relent in lessons on the art of a sword until the day that Thom could beat her one match in two.

When it came time for Thom's ordeal of knighthood, there was a large crowd gathered to see if his association with Roger would harm him in the chamber itself. Whatever had happened in the chamber, however, Thom emerged pale and shaking but otherwise unscathed.

That night, Thayet presented Thom with his shield, a rearing black horse on a violet background. In return, Thom proposed to the princess of his dreams.

Impulsive Gary had calmed after a full year of serving as Tortall's king, but his propensity for mischief would never be settled. When he heard that Alanna had wanted to be a knight, he made the proclamation that the nation would return to its roots. Women would be allowed to try for knighthood.

Cythera quickly distracted the conservatives with the news that she was carrying the realm's next monarch. When the healthy baby boy was introduced to the court, not many were surprised to hear that the baby's name was Jonathan.

In time, Jonathan of Naxen would be fast friends with Duke Baird's son Nealan and with Keladry of Mindelan, the first girl to make a try at knighthood.

Through all of the dealings at court, no one realized that Alanna had not settled down to think of babies and embroidery. Her children seemed to be the focus of her life at court, and rumors that she had helped to dethrone Roger all seemed to be wild accusations. In time, even those whisperings died away.

Though Myles served as the official spymaster for Tortall, she and George did all of the legwork. In time, when Kyprioth made his offer, Alanna wasn't surprised that it was Aly who accepted the offer to lead a rebellion in the Copper Isles. The girl had thrived raised on the fun of trickery and the art of deception, and it was no great shock that a taste for espionage had carried on.

As for Numair Cooper, he spent years flitting in and out of the beds of various court ladies, with so much charm and charisma that not one of his flings ended badly. All of that stopped when he met a Gallan wildmage, however, and Alanna hadn't the heart to tease her student. She was still much the same way about George, after all.

On occasion, Alanna wondered what her life might have been like as a knight, but only briefly. She had made a difference without ever drawing undue attention to herself, and if her legacy was quiet, it was something that had changed the world. That was quite enough for a girl who had thought there was nothing but boredom in being a lady.


End file.
